Isle of Thorns
by Evanescence2189
Summary: He let her go at her wish. Just with a warning. "Oh, Wendy," he said, and set his hands gently on her shoulders. She could feel his warm breath on her neck, and it was all she could do to remain still against his touch. "I believe you promised me forever...know that I don't take promises lightly." Her mistake was not believing him. His mistake was letting her get under his skin.
1. Revenge

**So…I've been officially hooked on this series for a long time, but haven't considered writing something for it until now…partially because until now, I hadn't had an idea worth exploring. While I realize it may not appeal to many of you, it's an idea that simply won't leave me be. **

**I'm no former LOST writer, but I have an appreciation for a complex storyline, especially within this show. I'm following **_**all**_** the normal pairings thus far, don't worry! This particular story technically begins at the end of "Ariel." Just be warned, this story will negate some of the storyline in "Second Star to the Right."**

* * *

_~Isle of Thorns~_

Chapter One – Revenge (and its many forms)

Rumpelstiltskin watched impassively as the mermaid disappeared beneath the water, with her the queen's instructions. He glanced over at Regina, shaking his head imperceptibly at the satisfied smirk she wore.

"Pleased with yourself, are you?" She turned her head to him.

"Oh yes. Now we can concentrate on our next move," she said, placing a hand on her hip. The gesture brought him back to an even darker time in memory. Of someone quite similar in appearance within the gesture but…altogether different. It gave him only slight pause, but Regina didn't miss it.

"What?" she asked. Rumpelstiltskin smiled thinly.

"Our next move," he repeated. "What, perchance, did you have in mind?"

He refrained from voicing this particular observation. While on a better day he might've, it would only serve to anger Regina. It really was a marvel at their likeness, though it did incur a prickle of anger (and perhaps, if was to be honest with himself, remorse) within him; the Queen had both indirectly and directly caused her death, like so many acquaintances in their mutual past. But while he didn't particularly care if she was angered (and if he happened to cause it, all the more amusing for him), it would only hinder their pursuit.

_Then again, she had been more than an acquaintance_, he allowed.

"I thought _you _already had the plan worked out on your own."

"Really? How so?"

"Well, you know this…_object _better than I do. I assumed you'd have it all figured out by now," she said tersely. He raised a brow, but shifted his gaze behind her, into the brush of the forest.

"It would be best if we kept moving to the higher, more protected grounds of the mountains after the mermaid returns," he said. "There we can plan in a more private setting."

"So I suppose we'll just have to sit here…and wait," Regina said with pursed lips.

"I know it will be trying for you," Gold said with a slight smirk. She scoffed and waved a hand over a nearby fallen log. A leather couch appeared in its place with cushions on either side. She sat down on the right side, a satisfied smirk coloring her features.

"I might as well be comfortable," she said, and motioned to the other side. "Take a seat."

"How gracious of you," he said dryly.

They were forced to wait for hours, and their mutual boredom forced them to occasionally strike up idle conversation. A sarcastic comment about the view, a general musing on what Emma and the others were up to, what Henry might be doing…

It was dark already and growing more so by the minute. Regina was beginning to grow annoyed as she impatiently thought, _what's taking that ditsy mermaid so long?_

"Do you really believe Belle can succeed?" Regina asked. Rumpel looked over at her.

"Yes, I really do," he replied.

"Are you sure that's not just your feelings _blinding_ you?"

"Or perhaps it's my feelings illuminating me," he countered.

"You really do love her," Regina said, a sort of dubious resignation set in her tone.

"Is that jealousy?" Rumpel said with a slight smirk.

"Of Belle?" she laughed before leveling him with a flat look. "I think _not_—"

"No, no," he interrupted. "Of having someone."

Regina looked up at him in surprise. A bit of hurt flashed through her countenance. But their conversation was disrupted by Ariel's arrival. They got up and Regina dismissed the enchantment of the couch, transforming it back into the fallen log. Ariel gave them the item they sought. It was small and square and made of stone; ancient in appearance and etched in lettering and symbols that Regina didn't recognize, along with an encrusted jewel, onyx in color, in the center of the top side. It was Pandora's Box, and as Gold described to her, it held the world's most terrible evils under perpetual lock and key.

Ariel also gave them Belle's message of a girl named Wendy.

"Wendy?" Rumpelstiltskin repeated incredulously. "That's impossible…"

"Her brothers said that Pan captured her long ago, and forced them to work for him before he would let her go," said Ariel.

"How can that be?" he asked stubbornly. "She's dead."

He then looked over at Regina, who looked at him with pressed lips and slightly wide eyes. She was nervous.

"Or so you said," he seethed, mentally kicking himself for his apparent stupidity. "What did you _do?_"

"At the time, what I thought was best. Honestly, I can't believe you fell for that _aga_—" she started, but he cut her off with a sharp glare.

"_No._ What. Did. You. _Do?_" he grated out.

"I sent her to Pan," she said with a slightly guilty frown. "From what she had told me of him once, she was in love with him."

"Don't tell me. You reunited them with the most altruistic of intentions," Gold said with a glare, and crossed his arms.

"She tried to kill me! I thought it was only fair," Regina said defensively before addressing the mermaid. "Besides, right now Henry is all that matters."

"We'll do our best," Rumpelstiltskin corrected sharply, glancing at Regina with an angry look. Ariel frowned a bit nervously, but nodded. She was about to sink below the surface, but Rumpel's voice stopped her. He breathed in a sigh in an attempt to calm himself.

"Look, um…when you return…tell Belle I love her…and that she was right," he said with a slight smile. "I _will_ see her again." Ariel returned it and nodded once more before diving beneath the water.

The two were silent for a few seconds. Regina wasn't willing to start the conversation, still annoyed by his jab. Gold reigned in his temper and personal feelings aside, and thought of their next move. Eventually, he pointed up ahead to the right.

"The closest mountainside intercepts the river. It's not too far, perhaps two miles," he said. "There we'll find shelter and a more protective spot." With her nod of approval, he walked ahead. He didn't know long this tentative alliance would last, but so far, it seemed they would be making little progress if surprises such as these greeted him at every turn.

"Wait," he said, and halted right in front of Regina. She cursed under her breath at his abrupt stop.

"What the—_Gold!_" He rolled his eyes in exasperation.

_What a temperamental child._

"Pan seems to have left us either a gift, or a trap." In front of them were four Lost Boys, each brandishing spears or a bow. Before one could let an arrow fly, Rumpelstiltskin waved a hand, bringing all four down into a sleeping spell with it. As he and Regina walked through the clearing, she peered down at them with a little contempt.

"They're asleep," she said flatly.

"Did you expect something more cruel?" he asked in a deadpan. He didn't bother looking back at her as he passed her. With the aid of his magic, he no longer needed the support of that blasted cane. He was grateful for small favors, at least, as he trudged up the slight incline. Those boys must have been here grouped together for _some_ reason, and if he was to hazard a guess, he would say they were guarding thoughts drifted to Henry, or perhaps…but he stamped them out swiftly.

_No. It can't be this easy._

He had his answer sooner than he would have thought, and he stopped in front of the large, wooden casket of bamboo. It was entwined with vines and the odd magic native to this land and its self-proclaimed ruler.

"S-Someone…please…please help me!" a small voice cried, but grew stronger and steadier with every plea. "Whoever is there, please let me out!"

He peered into the box between the cracks in the stalks of entwined bamboo sticks, but something in his stomach fell at the sight of her.

* * *

It had been a month, but it might as well have been a hundred years. Or minutes. It would have all felt the same. Every day was as torturous as the last. He sat on his chair at the table, trying to eat a meal _not _prepared by her. What was the point of sleep and sustenance when his _magic _was all that was needed?

…It was all he had left, at least. And every time he merely glanced in the damned pedestal's direction, there it sat. Mocking him. Silent and indifferent to his pain. He couldn't bring it in himself to hate it, smash it like all the others. He couldn't bear it.

_It's what you deserve._

But it wasn't just the teacup. It was everything she had touched. The drapes, the tea tray, the clothes, the furniture, the pieces of decoration, the _books_…not even his wheel was safe. It only served to remind him even more of his failure. His failure to forget the images seared into memory, the final words she spoke that still rung in his ears, and everything that was her now brandished onto his heart. And it had all been for nothing.

His thoughts were disturbed by a knock at the door. The bowl of soup left finally forgotten, he reluctantly got to his feet and opened the door, ignoring the treacherous prick of curiosity. Upon opening the door, however, his frown deepened.

It was a girl.

Though a dark hood covered the top of her head, she was young and dressed finely. Nothing court-worthy, but respectable enough.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" he asked, maintaining the normal, maddening lilt to his voice that he was so renowned for.

"May I come in?" she asked pleasantly with a grin. His eyes narrowed unperceptively.

"Depends," he said. "But today isn't the best for making deals, dearie."

"But mine is an exceptionally good one, Rumpelstiltskin," she replied with a teasing upturn to cherry red lips. "And the desired outcome is…shall I say, mutually beneficial."

"In what respect?" he asked.

"If you don't let me in, you'll never find out, will you?"

It was against his better judgment, but he led her into the main room of his home, where he negotiated over most of his…work.

"This better be good," he called over his shoulder. "You've disturbed my lunch, and wasting my time…well." He turned and flashed her a playful grin that still contained a certain edge to it.

"There's a price for that too."

The girl slid the brown hood behind her to reveal a head of loose, dark curls that framed a pale face. They were let loose in a way that brought forth an image of a different girl sitting lazily upon the couch in his library. Late at night when she couldn't sleep, hair mused and clothing a bit disheveled from the failed attempt, and reading by the light of a single candle that he made sure lit up a good portion of the room without stinging her eyes.

Though this woman's eyes were not _her _calming blue, but a soft green. The difference snapped Rumpelstiltskin out of his reverie. He realized that she had been watching him with a strange expression on her face that, for once, he found he had trouble reading. He'd always prided himself on his skills of discernment, especially with those who owed him something or tried to haggle with a bargain. You couldn't cheat the cheater.

"I wouldn't worry. There's a reason we needed to be in a more…reserved setting to discuss what I have to offer. And I know it will be to your liking," she said with a grin, but instead of joining him in the center of the room, she looked around, marveling at the knickknacks and things he had collected over the past couple hundred years. It was slightly infuriating, except he had a feeling she was both genuinely curious and playing a game at the same time. At least with Belle, he always could tell what she was thinking. Subtly had not been her strong point.

"You see, the two of us happen to be in the same occupation." At his raise of brow, she smiled a bit more. She set her hand on her hips as she used the other to count off the points she'd mentally listed. "Well, the business of bargaining. A favor for a trinket, a favor for a favor, little things like that. I'll wager we have a great deal in common."

"What is it you're offering?" He was getting impatient, and really didn't want to have to bother with this little tart and whatever mind games she thought she was playing. He'd rather not give himself an excuse to just kill her and have to change his carpets again.

"Something powerful to use at both of our advantages, to achieve a common goal," she said, pausing to admire an oddly carved gargoyle. Then her voice grew a bit softer. "Rumor at the mill is that you've lost someone who mattered a great deal to you."

In less than a heartbeat after she looked up, she found herself looking up straight into the Dark One's reptilian gaze.

"Who told you _that, _dearie?" He knew he had tipped her off to his touchiness on the matter, but the grief was too close to the surface, to fresh to be mocked by anyone other than the one who had caused it. It was her triumph, and so her right to mock him. A stranger, on the other hand, had no place. He would teach her the lesson of crossing the Dark One.

To his mild astonishment, the woman disappeared in a coil of red smoke, only to reappear yards behind him.

"I'm well connected enough through the Queen's grapevine to give me valuable information," she said with a smile.

Instantly his fury returned to him.

"And why would you need such…information?" He raised a hand in tandem with his question, his tone and expression menacing and dangerous.

"To help me enact revenge on my one and only _cousin_," she replied. Her demeanor was finally serious, and Rumpelstiltskin tilted his head to the side in question. His anger still simmered under the surface, but he still wanted answers from this peculiar intrusion of his home.

"You now know more than anyone of her adept skill in murdering happiness. I have some skill in magic, but not enough on my own to inflict what she has done to me, and to countless others. But the help of the one who trained her? Now _that _is priceless."

Rumpelstiltskin watched as the mysterious young woman traversed his hall once more, taking in with her eyes all that she saw hanging upon walls, sitting in plain view on shelves, and finally, stopping at the pedestal.

"She is empty and cruel. It is time her cruelty comes full circle, so she can taste the blood she has spilled, drown in the misery of that which she made herself," she said, gazing at the little teacup in wonder. Rumpelstiltskin didn't know what to make of this woman, but there was a hidden depth behind the seemingly innocent gaze she wore on first glance, while at the same time, he'd seen the scheming coils of her mind working. If she was truly the Evil Queen's cousin, the two had a clear grasp of colorful language.

He giggled a bit and leaned against a statue he was sure was too heavy to move under his weight.

"What offence has the Queen made against you, dearie?" he asked, and while his tone was as playful and aloof as it'd always been, he knew she'd be able to sense the severity of his question. Her smile was strange—sad perhaps, humorless definitely.

"The greatest short of killing me." It was so gravely honest, and it didn't necessarily surprise the imp. Nothing about Regina would produce anything less. He knew from personal experience.

"Why would you risk coming to _me?_" he asked with a teasing grin. "I could always just betray you…or kill you."

"Hmm, you want to know why?" Her smirk was just as teasing, and though he could see the underlying fear in her gaze, there was determination deeply rooted. It seemed she had a sense of self-preservation, nonetheless. Only one person had never been afraid of him.

"We do not choose those we fall in love with…or whomever decides to care for us," her voice trailed as her gaze grew distant, but she didn't wander too far into her thoughts before continuing, "But they should not be lost in vain."

Rumpelstiltskin stilled, her words washing over him as a wave over stone. The halted his thoughts, and whatever his reply would have been, died on his lips.

She paused, looking down at the ground.

"It seems you and I are kindred spirits, Rumpelstiltskin." Both wary and calculating, his gaze was honed on her as she moved across the room. It didn't escape him that in that moment, a rather large chip of her cleverly painted mask fell away, revealing to him a glimpse of pain that was so familiar. Although her mouth curved upward, her eyes screamed to the contrary.

"Perhaps," he conceded.

She stilled, and he shrugged before pushing off the statue he had been leaning on.

"Well, if I am to do business with you, I must first know your name. No exceptions!"

A small, but genuine smile touched her lips, and she met his waiting gaze.

"Wendy."

* * *

"R-Rumpelstiltskin?" The woman's voice trembled, but even as her eyes were wide and fearful and her face was pale and gaunt and smudged with grime, he would recognize her anywhere. She peered at Regina, rage thinly veiled under the surface, but she kept his attention on him.

"I'll get you out." The words left his mouth nearly of its own accord, but he hadn't expected the rebuttal from behind him.

"We shouldn't…Pan will be sure to follow us." Gold turned to look at her incredulously.

"How _dare_ you!" Wendy exclaimed. "After all you have done, it doesn't surprise me that you would leave me here…but please, Rumpelstiltskin, before he comes…" She peered up at him with haunted eyes, just as bright green as he remembered. He gave her a reassuring smile before waving a hand over the side of the casket. It fell over easily enough, but her wrists were bound to the roof of it with shackles. He peered closely at them, and realized what they _really_ were.

"Regina bound my magic with these. Pan attached them with a chain so I could never get loose," she said, tossing a furious glare toward the Queen. She simply frowned in disdain and looked away. Rumpelstiltskin knew his former apprentice better than anyone, and knew under the surface Regina did feel the least bit guilty, otherwise she wouldn't have let him help her cousin at all.

"Just wait a second. This might sting a bit," he said, and as gently as he could, grasped her shackled wrists. Magic surged from the palm of his hands and reacted with the magic already infused in the metal, and it took mere moments for the block to be removed. Removing the shackles themselves took little effort, but the sight of her chaffed wrists, skin worn red and raw, parts caked with dried blood, evoked pity for the girl. He helped Wendy out of the crate and though she was shaky on her feet, he steadied her.

"We have to go _now_," said Regina. "We don't know if Pan knows we have her."

"He'll be angry," Wendy said tremulously. Rumpelstiltskin steadied her shaking arms with a reassuring grip.

"We'll protect you, but we have to move," he said, and began leading them further into the forest.

* * *

"Oh, really?" Pan mused to himself as he viewed the empty casket. They had done it now. The truly hilarious part was that they thought they had an advantage just because they had her now. Well, maybe they did.

Or maybe they'd just made him angry.

**While I know this is a very different Wendy than what was portrayed on the show, I felt as if her character could have been expanded and used in a more interesting setting, and of course much different from the traditional story. While it alters what happened in "Second Star to the Right," I'll simply say that Baelfire could have very well have been taken in by any English family and have chosen to protect them by sacrificing himself. It didn't **_**need **_**to be the Darling family (I'll address it in a later chapter). **

**Let me know what you thought, I have the next chapter to be released soon! **

**Here's a preview of the next chapter, "Kindred":**

"_I'm not so foolish as to reveal my cards prematurely."_

"_And I'm not so foolish as to bargain without knowing what is on the table."_

"_I'm not attempting to cheat you, if that's what you mean."_

"_Don't presume to think you could cheat the cheater, dearie."_

"_Well, if you must know, I acquired it at quite the cost."_

"_Such as?" He let the question hang, raising a brow as he grinned. Wendy hesitated, assessing her options. _

If we are to work together, we'll need to start with some sort of truce._ Not that she'd be so stupid as to trust the world's most renowned trickster, even more infamous than her cousin, but perhaps their alliance would be as beneficial as she'd predicted._

"_My home…and the only person who ever truly cared for me."_


	2. Kindred

**Thanks to _Alien She_ and _innocent as far as you know_ for reviewing, and for all of you who favorited/followed this story. I really appreciate it! **

**Something I didn't mention in the first chapter, but might be a good thing to note, is this interpretation of Wendy is a bit older than her Once Upon a Time portrayal. Her exact age will be known later in the story, but just keep in mind that while she's under twenty, she's not the ten year old we see in the show. **

**We'll be getting deeper into the plot, and I would love some feedback from you all!**

* * *

_~Isle of Thorns~_

Chapter Two – Kindred (in all that matters)

"_Two people with a common goal can accomplish many things. Two people with a common enemy…can accomplish even more." –Rumpelstiltkin_

What the _hell_ had he been thinking? This woman didn't belong in his home, wandering his halls. It had been a month of her daily pestering him, nearly provoking him into banishing her into some dimension where she could no longer exasperate him further. He'd come close to killing her at least three times a day, but every time he would glance over at the pedestal, _her_ displeased frown would appear in his mind, her look of disappointment in him, for taking what she would deem an innocent life.

Still, he very much doubted Belle would have approved of him scheming to take revenge on the Queen.

He sighed in frustration.

This was a conflict within himself he'd never had experienced before Belle, and he blamed her for that, for changing him. And it didn't help that this supposed cousin of Regina held characteristics that so reminded him of Belle: her curiosity, her penchant for pressing all the wrong buttons of his personality, her sense of innocence…

He would let this…Wendy—play her game anyway. All the better for him when he snatched the proverbial rug from under her and exposed her eventual treachery. He distinctly remembered the old proverb of "keeping your enemies close," but this was unfounded.

And even after a month, this slip of a girl still hadn't revealed the exact nature of the item she possessed, but they had been planning how they would be able to infiltrate the Queen's palace using Wendy's connections within. Rumpelstiltskin grew weary of her deflections, nonetheless.

He wasn't running an inn, and most importantly, the Dark One didn't make breakfast for _houseguests_. Hell, there was a reason he, Rumpelstiltkin, didn't even have prisoners. At least not for very long.

He didn't have the patience.

And now this little tart was demanding a meal? She should be so lucky that he didn't transform her into a snail where she stood.

"It's only respectable, I'm a guest," she said, smiling pleasantly. His eyes narrowed, and she disappeared with a snap of his fingers. By the distant shriek and _splash_ he could hear from outside, she'd landed in a mud puddle outside his door. He giggled as he heard the wonderful screams of her indignation. If only she'd have stayed out for more than five minutes.

"Miss me?" she quipped. Wendy sat on the table, not far from where he sat eating at the head of it, and she took a rather large bite of a piece of buttered toast.

"If you want your revenge on the Queen, you might want to try being a little nicer to me," she said with a grin. When he raised a brow at her impudence, she raised a placating hand, but said all the same, "I may not be anywhere near as powerful as you, but I have a knack for speed."

The Dark One stood then from his seat and slowing paced the dining hall.

"And what good will that do you if I simply torture the information I seek out of you and use it to my own desires?" he asked with a toothy grin, though his eyes were sharp as a blade. Wendy's expression turned playful, albeit wary.

"Well, while I agree you _could _do that, what I possess would be of no use to you."

"And why is that, dearie?"

"To use it, you must have a bond of blood with whom you which to bind, as in a family relation," she explained, smiling when his expression gave way to pure annoyance.

"You've done your research well, but where are you hiding such an object?" he asked curiously. A smirk slid across her face.

"Now, Rumpel, give me a little more credit than _that_."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"I'm not so foolish as to reveal my cards prematurely."

"And I'm not so foolish as to bargain without knowing what is on the table."

"I'm not attempting to cheat you, if that's what you mean."

"Don't presume to think you could cheat the cheater, dearie."

"Well, if you must know, I acquired it at quite the cost."

"Such as?" He let the question hang, raising a brow as he grinned. Wendy hesitated, assessing her options.

_If we are to work together, we'll need to start with some sort of truce. _Not that she'd be so stupid as to trust the world's most renowned trickster other than her cousin, but perhaps their alliance would be as beneficial as she'd predicted.

"My home…and the only person who ever truly cared for me."

The answer gave him pause. Only because he saw the heavy truth in her eyes, the painfully haunted look that he recognized.

"How's that?" he asked.

"That…is a long story. Perhaps on a day when we have more time to chat," she said with a grin that didn't meet her eyes. Rumpelstiltskin was not fooled. She was stalling, hiding something, but he sensed it was out of pain and perhaps her unwillingness to trust him so soon. For now, he would let her be. The Dark One was anything if not persistent.

* * *

It was a struggle on the rolling hills and through the dense jungle, but the three managed to hasten to the vantage point Rumpelstiltskin had originally planned; soon the soft soil and grass underfoot met rock and sand, trees and bush and moss giving way to gray dirt and open air. He could hear the sound of gentle waves crashing against the shoreline, crickets that chirped with the sun's heat. They followed closely to the river now, approaching the great mountains that would soon provide both shade and shelter.

It was a good thing too, he mused, glancing over at the woman they had rescued. Wendy was clearly weakened and required healing for all she had received in her time of imprisonment. Not to mention she would do well with a decent meal, a washing, and some sleep. Well, she wasn't the only one.

He could feel the layer of grime he was covered in from their hiking in this humidity, the combination of sweat and dirt and nature leaving him uncomfortable in his own skin. He and Regina hadn't eaten since the morning, and the emptiness in his stomach was beginning to take its toll.

"We can set up camp farther in, up there where the overhang will give us shelter and the boulders in front will shade us from view," he said, pointing ahead of them.

"You think a few boulders are going to protect us if Pan really wanted to find us?" Regina remarked dryly. He leveled her with a look.

"He won't look for us right away, but I'm sure he knows by now," said Wendy, who threw a resentful glare at her cousin. Regina matched it, leaving Rumpelstiltskin wondering what he had gotten himself into. The two women were scowling at each other, each adopting their own posture of superiority; Regina had a hand resting on one hip, while Wendy stopped and faced her, arms crossed over her chest.

"If we don't want to be caught in the open, I suggest we keep _moving_," said Rumpelstiltskin, attracting the attention of both women. Wendy glared at Regina once more before dropping her arms to the sides, and starting ahead. Regina gave a derisive smile in her direction before following.

Rumpel let out a heavy breath.

_This isn't going to be easy._

* * *

"They're not far," said Felix. "We could easily catch them."

Pan turned to his second in command and smirked, the expression masterfully putting an airtight lid on his screaming thoughts of anger and retribution. They would soon come to him, just as she would soon be his again, and his plans for Henry would be complete. Biding his time was all that was required, even if it would be trying his patience.

"Relax, Felix. We don't have to give chase. They think they have leverage over me, that they can defeat me," said Pan, with a chilling grin that he knew unnerved his subordinates. "This only makes the game more…_interesting._"

"What should we do then?" said a lost boy. Pan addressed the group that had come with him to check out the scene of the escape. They looked up at him, waiting for his command, his will for them to follow. It brought another smile to his lips.

"We'll head back to camp. There is much to prepare."

* * *

Wendy didn't know what to think. Never in so many years did she have the hope of attaining freedom. Never in her life did she think delivery would come in the form of the Dark One and the Evil Queen. Fate had apparently decided on a whim to spare her, however late, but Wendy also realized the error in her thoughts; as long as she remained in Neverland, she would never truly be free.

For now, she would be grateful for this small blessing, to be out of Peter Pan's constant scrutiny. Even now her magic was trying to return her strength, but it would be long in coming until she was fully revived. Exhaustion was quickly taxing her, and she felt it in trembling limbs and the pain of going so long without sustenance, as well as the aching pain in her arms where metal had worn delicate skin.

"Sit down here, dearie."

She looked up at her old friend for what he was: tired as hell, but his eyes held a certain softness she had never seen him direct at her. She could do nothing else but oblige him by sitting on the large, flat boulder he motioned to while he and Regina set up camp. They utilized their magic well, making a bonfire and comfortable tents to later rest in, complete with blankets and pillows and cushions to sit on around the fire. Then Regina went down to the lake to "catch their meal," as Rumpelstiltkin had put, while he sat down beside her.

"Let me see those wrists," he said, nodding his head downward. Wendy held them up warily, but his touch wasn't rough as his magic materialized and coiled about the area. She watched in fascination as the red welts dissolved into fair, unblemished skin, taking away the sharp burning sensation. Her eyes widened in surprise, however, when the purple glow spread up her arms and over the rest of her body. She jerked a bit in his grasp, but at his instruction to relax, she stilled. Soon, the glow dissipated, and she smiled. The ache in her limbs was gone, as well as any other discomfort from mild physical abrasions or bruises.

"Thank you," she said genuinely. He nodded and released his grasp.

The two then lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, each wanting to say something to the other, but neither knowing how to begin.

"How did you find me?" Wendy asked.

"By accident, actually," Rumpelstiltkin replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "We received a message from your brothers, asking us to find you."

"My brothers?" she asked hopefully. Her eyes began to glisten with tears at the mention of them. "Are they safe? Did you see them? Where are they?"

"They are in a land far from here, in a city called Storybrook. It's where many of the inhabitants of the Enchanted Forest were brought to with the Curse," he explained. "Are you familiar with it?"

She gave him a bitter look.

"Yes, Pan told me of Regina's curse…after Hook escaped, Pan endeavored to find out why," she said. "He found out about it then."

"_Good riddance," he sneered. "Perhaps the Curse will take him anyway."_

"My brothers were captured by Pan long ago, even before I came here," Wendy said miserably. "He's forced them to do his bidding ever since…they think he'll kill me if they don't."

"Won't he?" Rumpelstiltskin asked.

"…No," Wendy assured.

"How are you so sure?" She paused and looked down at her folded hands.

"You know why he won't," she said. Gold raised a brow, but didn't comment further.

"Why are you here?" she asked, and he sighed.

"It's a long story, but my grandson was taken here and brought to Pan. My son and his mother are here, along with her parents," he said. "Hook was able to bring us here on the _Jolly Roger_."

He noticed her look of distaste.

"Yes, he's here too," he said with knowing look. Her eyes widened in realization.

"Wait, what's your grandson's name?" He gave her a suspicious look.

"Henry," he said, "But why—"

"I'm so sorry," she interrupted. Guilt colored her features. "I met him…Pan forced me to lie to him."

"_I'm sick…Neverland's magic is fading, and I've been here a long time," she said weakly. "For some reason it's affecting me more than the others, so Pan moved me here away from the others."_

_Wendy coughed and took in shuddering breaths._

"_He's already doing all he can," she added. "But you must go, I don't want you to catch what I have."_

_At his hesitance to follow through with her instruction, she urged him again to leave. Shame made something solid drop into her stomach at the concerned gaze Henry gave her._

"_Don't worry, I _will_ come back for you," he said, and left her bedside._

"I think it was the push Pan needed to convince Henry to help him," she said, casting her gaze downward in her ignominy. "I'm sorry."

Rumpel sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Eventually, he waved a dismissing hand.

"You had no choice," he said in understanding. "But it's best you don't tell Regina that."

She grimaced.

_Not if I want to get myself poisoned._

He was silent for a moment, piquing her curiosity as to what he would ask. She could see that another question was burning at the tip of his tongue, so she remained patient.

"Wendy," he began, and she perked up, meeting his gaze. She could read conflicting emotions there, confusion and concern being the most dominant. "How did you end up here in Neverland?"

Wendy scowled at the thought.

"The way people usually arrive in Neverland: as a gift to Pan," she said lowly. "I have my cousin to thank for that."

This didn't necessarily surprise Rumpelstiltkin, though his temper rose to the surface.

"Regina had led me to believe you had died in that cellar," he said tersely. Wendy frowned deeply, her brows knit together.

"I had been so close…but once she captured me with the shackles that drained my magic, I was locked in her prison," she said. "A month later, her guards brought me out to the harbor on a ship…"

"And set sail to Neverland," he finished. "And I _wonder_ whose ship it was."

_The damn pirate_, he thought. _Not even here, yet he still manages to grate on my nerves._

Wendy nodded, looking down at her hands folded in her lap. The only reason she hadn't attacked Regina the moment she was released was because she knew she was too weak, both physically and magically drained. The attempt wouldn't have done her much good…not that the first one had been any more beneficial.

"By then I was resigned to my fate…but it doesn't matter now. That was a very long time ago," she dismissed with a sigh.

"How long ago?" he asked. He pursed his lips when she simply frowned, not meeting his gaze.

"Long enough. Years that have all run together in memory," she said finally, looking up at him in defeat. "I can never leave, even if you have freed me for a moment of peace. This place is the true prison."

Rumpelstiltskin fell silent, considering her words as he stared at her. She hadn't aged a day, though he knew she'd most likely spent decades in this place. Alone, bound, and with Pan as her warden.

"There's a reason it's called Neverland," she whispered coarsely. "Because once you set foot on its soil, his shadow never lets you leave."

A grave silence fell between them, in which Rumpelstiltskin thought over his next words. Finding her had been a surprise, but not unnecessarily a problem. In fact, she could quite possibly be their greatest advantage yet. Not as a form of leverage, but there was no one else, beside perhaps himself, who knew Peter Pan better than Wendy. And with her magic slowly returning to her, she would be able to help detain him.

"We have a plan, Wendy," he said. She looked up at him in a mixture of shock, and then doubt. "I know it seems impossible, but he is not impervious."

"You can't kill him." Her response was immediate, and when Rumpelstiltskin met her gaze, he saw the conviction in her expression.

"We'll see about that." The two snapped their attention to Regina, who walked over with several fish levitated in the air in front of her. She waved her other hand, and a large iron pan appeared over the fire. Lowering the fish onto them, she held up a hand next to her, where half of a lemon dropped into her palm. She squeezed it over the entire pan and cast them a satisfied grin.

"Dinner should be ready within moments," she said. Wendy looked at her blankly before standing.

"I have to wash, I've been filthy for too long," she said. "I'll be down at the river behind those rocks over there."

"You shouldn't go alone," Rumpelstiltskin warned. Wendy looked at him skeptically.

"I'll be fine by myself for a few minutes."

"There's no telling what Pan could be up to at this moment, probably biding his time until you are unprotected," he said, then slid his glance to Regina. A slow smirk curved his lips. "You should go with her, Regina."

"Like hell!" Both cousins glared at one another after the nearly chorused reply, until Wendy stared up at Rumpelstiltskin.

"You can't be serious," she deadpanned.

"If you want to risk the possibility of Pan whisking you away to be his prisoner once more, then be my guest," Rumpel said just as flatly. She huffed, and she and Regina stared at each other for a few more moments, tense and wary.

"Let's just get this over with," Regina said with a sound of exasperation before starting down the slope. Wendy sighed in defeat.

"You just want us to clear the tension between us," she accused of the Dark One.

"Makes us all the more safe, dearie," he replied with a smile. She wanted to smack the smugness out of it. Instead, she scoffed and followed her cousin to the riverbed.

"Make it quick, I'm starving," snapped Regina.

"This is my first free bath in nearly forty years, thanks to _you_. And I'm going to take as much _bloody time_ as I well _please!_" Wendy snapped, and splashed angrily into the water. Regina scowled and looked away, ignoring the pinprick of guilt in the back of her mind.

_What's done is done, you can't change the past. _It was the thought that always circled her mind when faced with these sorts of problems. When for once in her life she was forced to look back and actually feel _some _sort of regret, when she wondered if things could have been different with so many people. How many lives had she actually destroyed?

_Memories best left forgotten. _She supposed they would only eat at her, or at whatever heart she had left.

"_I suppose you have no use for family, if you don't even have room for love."_

"_Family is the most useful connection of all, if not the bloodiest."_

"_Only to a monster."_

The water was soothing. So clean and tranquil, if a bit cold. It was relieving after how hot it had been all day, and her muscles were finally relaxing. There had been enough in her reserved to pull a bar of soap into her waiting hands, and it had helped get rid of the dirt and grime of the past couple of weeks. She'd been locked in that crate for a week and a half, in chains for a month, but that had been her own fault.

She'd tried to escape. It was nearly the stupidest thing Wendy had ever done, but hope and desperation had driven her. Only it wasn't enough to keep Pan's shadow from catching her and bringing her back to _him_ by force.

_If only I'd been quicker…if only that god-damned fairy would have listened to me when there was still time… _

But of course, it didn't matter now. Wendy supposed she would die here, in Neverland, at the hands of the one who once captured her heart.

* * *

**Now I know that was a bit short, but the chapters will be getting progressively longer after a couple more (hopefully). There will be more to Wendy's backstory in due time. Just be ready for a few twists…and try not to kill me later for them! ;) **

**But here's a sneak peek of chapter three to entice you: **

"_That is a fate worse than death, dearie," he remarked with a smirk. "What could the Queen have done to warrant your hatred?"_

_Wendy gave him a dubious look. He flashed her a winning grin._

"_Come now, Wendy, the suspense is killing me," he said. "What did she do? Turn your True Love into a frog? Step on your hopes and dreams like everyone else in this godforsaken land?"_

_She was silent in spite of his half-joking-half-serious jibe, but after a long moment, she sighed in defeat. _

"_All right, Rumpel. I'll tell you," she said with a sad smile. "Just know that this isn't a story with a happy ending."_

_For the first time, she heard him sigh. In that moment, she could see the three centuries he had lived in his reptilian gaze, tired and solemn. _

"_Most real stories aren't, dearie," he replied knowingly._


	3. The Lonely

**Well, there's not too much I can say to lead into this one. There's some of the Enchanted Forest that Was, as well as even further in Wendy's past. I hope you find it interesting! Just know that I actually do know what I'm doing as far as the plotline and its consistency with season 3. ;)**

* * *

_~Isle of Thorns~_

Chapter Three – The Lonely (and the lost)

For a month and a half, they planned…and planned…and planned. From after breakfast until dinner, the schematics of Regina's castle, the spells required to get past her safeguards, and how they would do it; how they would defeat the Queen. On a day that marked the second week and a month since they had begun, they relaxed for a few minutes in the library. He'd needed several old books contained with spells that may suit their purpose, and they had gone through the process of ruling out which ones they would and wouldn't need, or weren't worth the effort.

A single bed was pushed against the back wall, and Rumpelstiltskin added a wooden table with two chairs. It wasn't hard to hazard a guess at who once slept there, so Wendy didn't ask. Instead she stared at him unabashed as he sat the end of the table, leaning back on his chair. Wendy was across from him with her head resting on the palm of her hand and her elbow leaned against the solid oak.

Her stare was beginning to be unsettling, he thought. Silently he wondered what she was thinking with such a pensive look on her face. Nothing showed outwardly except for the underlying curiosity he could see she harbored for him.

_But what is she attempting to decipher? _

"You cannot be older than seventeen, yet you think you can defeat the Queen when hundreds older and wiser than you have tried and failed—miserably I might add," he commented. "What makes you think you have a chance?"

She glared at him.

"If you _must _know…I'm nineteen," she sniffed, and he raised a brow as he smiled in amusement. "But no one before me has thought of something quite as versatile as what I intend."

"I gather you intend to kill her, if it's a blood curse," Rumpelstiltskin mused, breaking her from her reverie. Wendy looked down, tracing the edge of the table.

"It's an entrapment in which your magic is of no use to you. It is a blank world where you cannot sleep, nor eat, simply exist," she said. Her voice was soft, though it echoed within the expansive library. "Where no one can hear you or see you if they do not know you are there."

The Dark One was silent for a long moment, contemplating what kind of world this truly was. It was all so vague and hardly seemed plausible from what he knew of magic and other dimensions.

"That is a fate worse than death, dearie," he remarked with a smirk. "What could the Queen have done to warrant your hatred?"

Wendy gave him a dubious look. He flashed her a winning grin.

"Come now, Wendy, the suspense is killing me," he said. "What did she do? Turn your True Love into a frog? Step on your hopes and dreams like everyone else in this godforsaken land?"

She was silent in spite of his half-joking-half-serious jibe, but after a long moment, she sighed in defeat.

"All right, Rumpel. I'll tell you," she said with a sad smile. "Just know that this isn't a story with a happy ending."

For the first time, she heard him sigh. In that moment, she could see the three centuries he had lived in his reptilian gaze, tired and solemn.

"Most real stories aren't, dearie," he replied knowingly.

* * *

She hated funerals. Especially when she could see their pitying looks, their genuine looks, their false looks, everything that was dismal and made the world take on a gray haze. She stood amongst several families, mothers sobbing and children clinging onto their parents' hands, like she herself was gripping her father's. The fire that burned for those who had been lost the day before cast an orange glow on the masses, on all those from the village who had lost, or were helping others in their time of grieving.

The ogres had come again.

In the night, while the peaceful village slept, and all were safely tucked in their homes.

Well, almost everyone.

Her two brothers were doing last minute chores outside, helping their father carry blocks of wood from the backyard to the side of the house in stacks. Of course, Michael was too young for such labors, and only accompanied his brother for moral support, dragging his stuffed bear along in the grass and dirt no matter how many times his father warned him to pick it up.

John was able to carry two blocks at a time, though his scraggly hair swept into his eyes as he walked. Michael amused himself by playing with a fallen stick, and after giving into the temptation to poke his older brother, a duel ensued. Though it grew closer and closer to the main road into town, where some torches were still lit.

Their father warned them to stay away from the road as he continued his task, but wasn't too concerned with how late it was. No one would be passing on the road at this time anyway. But as he walked to the back of the house to retrieve the last load of wood, he stilled at the sound of thundering of feet on the ground, sudden screaming, crashing noises, and the cries of children. He had turned around too late, however, as he was faced with the gaping hole in his neighbor's house, wreckage that trailed on the road, and his missing sons.

Several homes were destroyed that day. A village was ransacked and pillaged while a little girl hid in a cramped closet filled with stacks of books, alone and in the dark as the world raged outside. Her father found her there when he'd returned in the morning, after the pandemonium had settled and the ogres had been either killed or run out of the village.

"Wendy," he'd said tenderly, softly, holding out a hand to her. She looked up at him with wide eyes glistening with tears, and he'd taken her into his arms and held her in his warm embrace.

"What happened, Papa? Where are Michael and John?" she asked tremulously. "Where are they? Outside?" When at first he didn't answer, she pressed him again. It took a third time until he'd told her of the attack, and how he hadn't been able to find them. Not a trace, except for a now squished stuffed bear with a missing arm and button for an eye.

He apologized over and over, rocking them back and forth as they sat on the floor. But much later, when she would look back on this moment, the moment her world first faltered, she couldn't help but think he hadn't been apologizing to her in particular. Because when they faced the resting place of those who had been taken that night, the small field lit up with lanterns and torches and the great bonfire in the center, he apologized once more under his breath. His voice was so soft Wendy wasn't sure she heard correctly, but the look of his face afterwards confirmed it for her in her mind.

She would always remember this field. It housed the ancestry of her village deep in its soil, surrounded by shrubs and great oak trees. But more than this, it was now home to her brothers, who would keep their mother company.

* * *

"How old were you," he asked quietly. She didn't answer right away, but he could see the distant glaze of her eyes and remained patient. Being lost in painful early memories was something he understood all too well.

"Fourteen," she said softly. "I was the eldest and always tried to be more mature than I was. After they were gone…well, I hadn't much use for it."

"And your mother?"

"She'd died a few years before of a wasting sickness, shortly after Michael was born."

"Your father never remarried then."

"No…the two of us grew used to being alone together, after a while. He didn't see the point of remarrying when he was busy enough training me," she said. "Or at least, that's what he always told me."

"Training?" he questioned.

"Regina's mother is my father's older sister," Wendy explained. She could tell this surprised Rumpelstiltskin, but she continued. "They never got along that well, mostly because of how they differed in using their magic…my Aunt Cora has always been selfish and ambitious, more often than not valuing her magic over things she finds dispensable, like family. But I never met her."

Rumpelstiltskin covered the pursing of his lips with a smile.

Oh yes, he remembered the ways of his former love. She was a creature in her own right.

He nodded in understanding, and Wendy continued.

"My father wanted nothing more to do with her after she scorned him for marrying 'below him,' as she had called it. But after Mother died, he made it his responsibility to teach me the ways of magic," she said.

"Why would he endeavor to do such a thing?" asked the imp in his usual way, throwing up a hand to emphasize his question.

A thought came to Wendy's mind, hazy and frayed, but it was there.

"_Blood ties are dangerous, dear one," he'd told her, a little girl no more than eleven years old, keeping the glow of the candle alive with only her will and the magic releasing from her fingers._

"_Especially within a family such as ours, for magic can be both power and a crippling vice in the hands of those corrupted by ambition."_

"_Then why must I learn it?" Wendy asked. He looked down upon her, a grave and sad look upon his face._

"_Because, dear one, the only way of protecting yourself from it is attaining it yourself," he said. "And you alone out of your siblings have the ability…so I will teach you to be strong." _

"He believed that magic was the power to create: be it joy or destruction. And the only way to protect myself from those in our family who would pose a threat to us," said Wendy.

"Like the Queen," the Dark One supplied with a grin.

"Exactly," she said. "We had never met before Regina visited my father's house on the edge of the village…but first, I met someone else."

* * *

In the month following the attack, Wendy found herself doing double the chores around the house than what she'd been used to, but this was mostly for her father's sake. He worked tirelessly on spells, procuring special books to sell and lend (for a price), and harvesting goods from their small farm to sell in the market square, all while going through her strict training, having her practice new spells and continue drilling in the old ones. She wasn't a natural when it came to her studies in magic, but she was dedicated and hardworking, and did her best to keep up with her lessons as well as taking care of the house.

As it was, she didn't have many friends. Only Thomas, their next-door neighbor, who had mostly been friends with John and Michael since he was more toward John's age of eleven. Not to mention he was a boy. Small for his age and mild-mannered, but a boy nonetheless, who had generally preferred her brothers' company to hers. His mother had died in the raid, and now kept to his own house more often than not. Wendy had only seen him twice in the past month, picking eggs and feeding his family's chickens, but she didn't mind. Her daily work ate up nearly all of her time anyway.

Wendy had long ago taken over for her mother as far as cooking and cleaning went, and never minded. How could she when she knew John and Michael were too young to do those things, and her father was already so busy? They'd been able to help her some as they'd grown older, but now she no longer had them to help her with everything else. These thoughts rolled treacherously about her mind as she straightened up the living room, dusting and polishing and moving spell supplies and papers back in their proper place.

The most important of all her tasks, however, was straightening up her father's books. The house was filled with them, almost every wall teeming with them on their shelves. Each one was unique in its own right, and many of them, she'd learned, were enchanted in some way. She could tell by the ones that glowed, by the ones that had odd letters and symbols scrawled on the spines, and ones that just seemed older that life itself. There were some locked away in the closets that even her father had warned her never to open, and she was sure it was for good reason.

But for once, she was _bored _of cleaning. What was the point of making the bed if she was going to lie in it again that night? More than anything else, though, she noticed the deathly quiet that settled in the very walls.

The house felt empty.

Wendy passed through the halls aimlessly now, until she realized where her feet had taken her. She peeked into the room her brothers had shared, and her eyes began to sting. It was still the way they'd left it that morning.

It would be a bad idea to go in there, she thought. Her feet paid her no mind, however, and once she plopped down on John's bed, the tears rushed down her cheeks against her will.

It was then that Wendy realized she was lonely. So utterly lonely.

The girl cried until she fell asleep, and her father found her there hours later. She never heard him come in, but distantly felt a cotton sheet being draped over her shoulders.

It was late in the night that she woke up to the sound of music.

_But who would be playing a flute at this hour? _

Curiosity winning out in her inner struggle between finding out what it was rather than going back to sleep, she got up and went to the window. Upon opening it and cautiously stepping outside, her boot-clad foot meeting the ground in a soft _crunch _against the grass, the music grew louder in her ears. It couldn't be a flute, she decided. Perhaps a clarinet, or some kind of mixture of the two.

It wasn't until she was halfway into the forest behind her home that she noticed the glow of a bonfire in the distance. She was sure that was where the music was coming from, and she continued her trek farther in. Twigs and weeds pulled at the hem of her dress as she walked, but she didn't let them deter her from her path, even when low hanging branches snagged at her loose flowing hair and sleeves. Soon the dense brush and foliage broke into a clearing, where she saw several boys dancing around a fire, whooping and laughing and seemingly enjoying themselves. Among them, she saw Thomas, smiling and taking part in the revelry. She smiled then, through her wonderment, until she noticed the other boy standing to the side.

Though the night was dark, Wendy could see that his hair was a lighter shade of brown, though it was cast somewhat red in the glow of the fire. He was dressed differently from the rest in a green tunic with brown, leather breeches and long boots. A leather jacket rested on the ground by his feet with an odd sort of guitar at its side. It was small and round and had four strings stretched across a long wooden neck, though it didn't appear as intricately crafted as the instrument in his hands, which had the look of something distinctly handmade.

He leaned against a large boulder as he played a panpipe, the source of the beautiful melody she was hearing. It was bouncing and merry as it was also somehow sad and haunting, not unlike his eyes as he stared into the fire. Hard and cobalt, she was captured by their gaze as they suddenly trained on her. She didn't dare make a sound as he continued to play, but she soon found herself stepping out from behind the relative safety of the bushes.

His eyes seemed to dance in both amusement and surprise as she stepped forward. A grin tugged at his lips in a way that had her hesitating, but she stopped only when she was a mere few feet in front of him. Her nerves made her hands tremble, though she hardly knew why. Though in the back of her mind she felt this boy was frightening as well as alluring, even if she couldn't explain it in words.

Then he stopped playing, but the magic in the atmosphere didn't by any means dissipate. Another boy, taller than him and wearing a dark hood, stopped dancing to pick up the guitar.

"I've never seen you before," she said, her voice mercifully steady as the strumming of the guitar picked up.

"How did you find this place?" he inquired, raising a brow. He sounded curious, though he maintained an air of nonchalance. She bit her lip, but replied honestly.

"I heard the music…and wondered where it was coming from."

"You _heard_ it?"

"Yes…" she trailed, giving him a strange look. His gaze was unreadable.

"Is it magic?" she asked curiously, because she had a feeling it was. She couldn't yet sense magical items, but she could tell what an enchantment looked like. Both his brows raised at this.

"Yes. It finds special children, boys in particular," he said, gesturing to the merry group behind him.

He looked down at her speculatively, as she was at least five inches shorter than him.

"What kind of boys does the spell attract?" she asked, intrigued, though wary of his motives. Coming here may have been a _very _bad idea. "And why?"

"Full of questions, aren't you? I don't even know who you are, little girl," he said dryly. Her eyes narrowed at his condescending tone, and she leveled him with a scathing look.

"I certainly don't know who _you _are either, though you barely look older than me," she remarked.

"Looks can be deceiving," he countered with a smirk. "But since it's obvious that the pipe's magic didn't affect you, why is it that a girl such as yourself left the safety of her home? Don't you have a family that would be worried?"

"I told you, I…I was curious," she said, folding her hands in front of her. "My father is asleep. He won't even know I was gone."

The mysterious boy smiled then and nodded, confusing her.

"I see. Well, where are my manners?" he said, and dropped into a flourish of a bow. "I'm none other than Peter Pan. Though my friends tend to call me Pan more often than not, you may call me whatever you wish as long as you give me _your_ name."

Wendy was wary of him, but couldn't help being charmed by his strange way.

"Isn't it unwise to give a stranger your name?" she asked with a small grin. He matched it, though he feigned a hurt look.

"But I hardly think we're strangers now that you know my name!" he said, making her giggle a bit. "Afterwards, I promise I'll answer your questions."

She bit her lip, wondering if she should trust him. He was obviously mischievous _and_ possessed some magic, but she knew detaining her inquisitiveness would be a losing battle the second she saw him and his entrancing eyes.

"Wendy…I'm Wendy," she said, and tentatively held up a hand. The instant he gently grasped her smaller hand in his, she knew she would soon be ensnared by him; by his piercing gaze that seemed to search her very soul, by his words and how skillfully he wove them, and finally his touch that she couldn't quite place the feeling of—that was left fluttering in the pit of her stomach and into her heart. She stayed with him that night, talking of anything and everything, especially his panpipe. Wendy wanted to know if she could truly become friends with this…Peter Pan.

"You see, Wendy, what I do is a service," he began. "The music can only be heard by those who feel lost, or alone in their lives without a friend. It leads them to me where we can all have fun together."

"And they come back before nightfall?" she asked.

"If they want to," said Pan with a nod. "But most prefer to come with me."

"Where?"

"Where I'm from…Neverland." The name was odd, but she quite liked the sound of it.

"Neverland? I've never heard of such a place," she said. "Is it another world?"

She'd heard of people travelling between worlds, such as Wonderland and Terebinthia and several others her father had made sure she'd learned in her studies. The thought of going to such places never interested her though. She often was too busy to concern herself with trivial fantasies and adventures when she had enough work to finish at home. But this…this actually seemed interesting.

"Yes, where imagination runs wild and _nothing_ is impossible," he said. "But it can be dangerous if you don't know your way."

"And you live there?" she asked incredulously.

"For a long time now, yes."

"With your family?"

He paused at the question, and the easy smile he'd worn for the past hour faded.

"You're alone," she realized with a sad frown. He noticed the look and grinned.

"Not at all. My friends here come back with me, and we become a family," he said. "We take care of each other while their parents couldn't and live a life of freedom."

"But wouldn't their parents worry and wonder where they've gone?" asked Wendy, her brows furrowing.

"That's the thing, Wendy. These boys come from families where they are unloved, unwanted, outcasts. Is that not why you're here?" he said, lifting a brow.

"What makes you think that?" she said defensively.

"The only way you would have heard the music is if you were just as lonely as the rest of them," he said, his voice suddenly grew gentle, but serious. She frowned and looked down at her lap, willing herself to not give anything away with how empty she suddenly felt. Or perhaps she'd only just noticed how much.

_Maybe I'm just a big liar…to myself._

"I thought you said the magic didn't affect me."

"Yes, you didn't feel its pull. But you still heard it," he pointed out.

She thought of John, how they'd bicker and pull one another's hair and yell at each other throughout the day, but still make sure Michael had his evening bath and was tucked in by both of them. How John used to tease the truth out of her as only a brother can.

"_You're annoyed now, but you love me," he said knowingly, pulling lightly on her hair and poking her arm. She pushed him aside with a mock glare and continued making her bed._

"_Get off! What makes you so sure?" she retorted in amusement. "I never said that."_

"_I know. You said I was an annoying pest." He sidled up to her, unmindful of her pushing. "But yours eyes said you actually do love me."_

"_Your eyes can't talk!" she countered._

"_Oh, yes they can!" he said. "They talk without talking!"_

"_Very perceptive," their father chimed in. "Now come to dinner, you two. Michael is already downstairs."_

She thought of the night after their mother had died: how he had held her to him for the first and last time as she sobbed into his tunic; how from then on she'd have to fill the role of mother, comforter, older sister, apprentice to her father, and a myriad of other hats that had her head spinning until she could no longer tell who she was or if there was any purpose to it all.

She thought of Michael, and how he had only been a year old when they visited the grave of a mother he would never know. She thought of how he'd only been four years old when another two empty graves had been added beside hers.

Her father did his best to provide for her and prepare her for the world, but what he didn't know was that she'd already seen part of it. And it was cruel.

Here in the middle of the woods, at an ungodly hour of morning, in front of a boy she hardly knew, she cried. She cried and without knowing she was doing so, her forehead fell to rest against Pan's chest.

_What am I _doing? Her mind screamed at her to take a good look at herself, but the other part of her didn't rightly care. It wasn't until she felt strong arms wrap around her that she felt comfortable resting entirely on him for support, clinging to him desperately.

"I don't want to be alone anymore," she whispered with a shaky breath. She hadn't expected him to answer, but what he _did_ say surprised her.

"You don't have to be."

She stilled for a moment, sniffling, and looked up at him.

"What?"

"We'll be friends, you and me."

Wendy hesitated and looked down. Could she trust him? Probably not. Would she regret it later? Most likely. Did she care anymore?

When she looked up again, there was a small smile on her face.

"Okay," she said. "But only if I can call you Peter."

But then again, maybe she should have cared.

* * *

It was the day she had ruined him, and he remembered it well.

She cried and had gone to _him _of all people for comfort. _Him_, the trickster and a master of lies, renowned for his cruelty. Her father was a fool to have taught her magic and of other worlds without telling her of the infamous Peter Pan; of Neverland.

He'd watched the many thoughts, memories, and emotions swirl and pass through her mind as her face went through them all. It was interesting how she left nothing unseen, but at the same time everything to the imagination—_his_ imagination. As much as she was strong-willed and quick-witted, she was a lost girl.

And as much as he told himself she wasn't worth his intrigue; as much as he told himself she was just a girl who would run from him as soon as she found out who he _really _was (and why was he hiding that from her in the first place?); as much as he wanted to pull away from her and her raging emotions…the sight of her tears did something to him, made him falter. She was everything he thought she was at first glance…but for the first time, tears had made him pause. He hadn't known what it was at first, but he'd thought…_perhaps he could use this to his advantage._

Pan tentatively hugged her close, and she took this as incentive to press even further against him, grasping gently onto his tunic.

_She's already in my grasp, _he thought. _Such a foolish girl._

"_I don't want to be alone anymore,"_ she'd whispered brokenly. Though her voice was slightly muffled, he heard her loud and clear. It had been enough to partially distract him, and he spoke before he could stop himself and _think_.

But he had let her go that night, contenting himself with the thought that she would be back. Even if she hadn't said so, he read it in her eyes and in her tentative smile. He came back the night after as well.

_To find more Lost Boys_, he told himself.

From then on it had gone downhill.

* * *

**Another day, another chapter. After this, the fun really begins. These first few were just for infrastructure. But here's a clip of the next:**

"_Why would you want me to come to Neverland forever? You haven't known me that long," she pointed out. He was quiet for a bit, to the point where she didn't think he would answer. But Peter was always surprising her._

"_Because you're different," he admitted. "And I like that."_

I like you_, his tone and gaze seemed to say, and she couldn't help but smile. It didn't matter if he hadn't said the words or not, the sentiment was there. At least she thought it was._

Perhaps I shouldn't keep reading into things, though,_ she thought._

"_As if Neverland needs more different," she quipped._

"_You're a different kind of different," he affirmed._

_Wendy found she liked his different kind of different too._


	4. Falling

**Hello again! Thank you to everyone who reviewed, especially _DijaLi_ for your lovely comments. They made my day! I'm trying to take this as slow as I can for the benefit of developing characters and plot, not just rushing into something I can't write myself out of. But let me know if there's anything you might like to see in chapters to come!**

_~Isle of Thorns~_

Chapter Four – Falling (while dreaming)

They'd long since moved her story to the more comfortable couch with afternoon tea turning into evening dinner. Wendy told Rumpelstiltskin of her nightly outings meeting Peter Pan in the woods after her father went to sleep. For the next two weeks after their first fateful meeting, the two talked of everything. Mostly of her life, once she'd begun trusting him. Occasionally she would be able to wrangle bits of information from Peter as well: that eggs were his favorite breakfast food (and sometimes he would eat them for lunch or dinner if he felt like it), fall was his favorite time of year when he was present in other realms to see it (when the leaves changed and fell in earthy colors and the days were cooler), and how in Neverland, you could not age.

"Then how old are you really?" she asked absently, toying with a blade of grass from her position on the ground. She was lying down, staring up at him with teasing green eyes. He sat on a tree stump looking down at her in amusement.

"How old do you think I am?" he asked with a smirk.

"Well, you look no older than seventeen, but I'm sure you're much older," she said thoughtfully. "Hmm, if I were to guess at random, I would say over a hundred."

He feigned a hurt look, grasping at his heart dramatically.

"You wound me, Wendy. Over a hundred?" She laughed, her eyes squinting with mirth.

"Actually, you're quite far off the mark," he mused, though his grin remained. Wendy raised a brow.

"Come now, you can't be older than a hundred." At his secretive smile, she guessed again. "Two hundred?"

He laughed and her eyes grew wide.

"While I suppose time passes on the island, it doesn't age you," he explained. "It's _my_ island."

"As in, you rule it?" she asked.

"Yes."

"So what are you, a king?" He had to laugh.

"In a manner, you could say so."

"All right then…" She looked down, considering this. He noticed her pensive demeanor and decided to hazard a question of his own.

"Wendy…do you want to come to Neverland with me?" he asked. She looked up at him in surprise.

"You would like it there, I know it. There are wonderful sights to see, things that defy imagination, and you would be with me and the Lost Boys," he said, excitement coloring his smile and his words. She began to smile with him, but then her father came to mind.

_There's no way I could leave him alone._

"I…I would love to visit Neverland," she said. He frowned.

"But you wouldn't want to stay," he finished flatly.

"It's not you, Peter, I really would like to visit your home," she insisted. "But I couldn't leave my father by himself…I'm the only one he has left, you know."

"But that's not all it is, is it?" he pressed, and she bit her lip.

"I just…I don't know if I would want to live forever, be stuck at this age all the time."

"Well, if you could be stuck at an age, what would it be?"

"Hmm, I don't know if I would want to be stuck at any age," she said, but at seeing his disappointed look, she quickly amended herself. "But if I were, perhaps a few years older at most."

"So you'll consider it?" he asked hopefully. That wasn't what she'd said, but she couldn't bear to dampen his smile. Instead, she sat up and asked him a question.

"Why would you want me to come to Neverland forever? You haven't known me that long," she pointed out. He was quiet for a bit, to the point where she didn't think he would answer. But Peter was always surprising her.

"Because you're different," he admitted. "And I like that."

_I like you_, his tone and gaze seemed to say, and she couldn't help but smile. It didn't matter if he hadn't said the words or not, the sentiment was there. At least she thought it was.

_Perhaps I shouldn't keep reading into things, though, _she thought.

"As if Neverland needs more _different_," she quipped.

"You're a different kind of different," he affirmed.

Wendy found she liked his different kind of different too. She was just about to say as much, until she yawned and rubbed her eyes tiredly. These nightly visits were taking their toll, though she would never admit that to Peter. It had gotten to the point where her father had noticed her slacking on her chores. She'd blamed it on having nightmares…of the ogres. He had softened and responded by taking the day off on their lesson for the first time since she could remember. Guilt gnawed on her for that, but it couldn't be helped.

"Wendy, are you all right?" Peter asked. She nodded with a smile, though not a minute passed when she yawned again. Involuntary tears sprang to her eyes and she quickly wiped them away.

"I'm fine."

"I don't think you are." Even though the fire wasn't exactly the best lighting, he wasn't blind; he could see the bags under eyes and the droop to her shoulders.

"Really, I am," she argued.

"No, you're tired," he said with a sigh. "I was beginning to wonder, with all that housework you do. See, that's another thing. You wouldn't have to work half as hard in Neverland as you do here. Your so-called _father _doesn't seem to appreciate you."

"He works too, Peter," Wendy said wearily. "Every day, just as much as I do. Not by choice."

Peter was silent for a long moment, making Wendy curious.

"Peter?"

He didn't speak for a few seconds longer, seemingly pulling his words together before speaking.

"There is a way we could still see each other without you having to sneak out and lose anymore sleep," he said.

"Really? What?"

"Neverland used to be a place where children could come to in their dreams, were dreams were born. Though now they seldom do," he said with a frown. "There is a certain flower that grows there, called the _Onara_. If used correctly, it can simulate the place you most desire to be…while the supply is much smaller than it once was, I suppose this is the perfect occasion to use it."

Wendy's eyes widened in delight.

"With its nectar, I can make you a spell that will transport you there while you sleep. I can meet you there while my shadow makes the rounds…I couldn't have kept coming here much longer anyway," he said with a grin.

"That…could work," Wendy said, slowly nodding. She stood and smiled at Peter. "And I could see Neverland!"

"Though you understand you wouldn't really _be_ there. It'll just look like it, but I suppose I could show you around."

"Still, that sounds perfect," she said, and for the first time, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. She had to lean up on the tips of her toes, but it was worth it once she felt him uncertainly wrap his arms around her waist. It was nice, being held.

The next night he brought the potion, light blue in color, in the form of a perfume bottle. To be inconspicuous, he'd said at her raised brows and dubious look.

"Just spray it once on your face each night, but close your eyes and mouth when you do it," he said.

"Why?"

"Just in case."

"In case of what?"

"Well, it tastes horrible."

"…That doesn't really answer my question."

He never answered her properly, but she didn't really mind. He'd given her a gift.

And the "perfume" worked like a charm. She did as he instructed before she lay down to sleep. The next she knew, she was in a forest clearing by herself at night. If it weren't for the fact that she had no idea where she was, she would try and find Peter. To her relief, she didn't have to.

"Weeendyyyyy…" she heard her name being drawn out and carried by the wind through the clearing. It echoed, and it made her nervous for the mere second it took for her to recognize his voice. Her gaze snapped upward, where she found him sitting up in the branch of a tree. He laughed, seeing her mixed look of annoyance and amusement.

"How did you get up there?" She had to jump back in surprise as he simply _appeared _mere inches in front of her.

"_Magic_," he said with a smirk. A grin slid across her face as an idea entered her mind. She felt for her own magic and found it still there for her to use. It took a small amount of concentration to have herself disappear before Peter's eyes. She reappeared behind him, standing atop of a tree branch. As soon as he sensed her, he spun around and laughed at their new game. Soon it turned into a tagging endeavor as they went farther into the forest. It ran into the night as they explored the land, and all it had to offer that could be seen within the dream.

Almost every night she came and waited for him at about eleven in the evening since she woke a little after dawn. Though she missed seeing him in person, Wendy loved being able to find her friend when she went to sleep. She stopped feeling guilty about hiding it from her father, who was none the wiser. Although silently she wondered at the need for such secrecy, after about six months it became their routine.

"When did you begin learning magic?" he asked her once. They lay on a bed of cushions and blankets relaxing after they had been running about, playing one of their hide-and-seek games. The cave they rested in was cool and protective, comforting somehow.

"When I was eleven. It was after my mother died," she said quietly.

"Are you any good?" he teased. She knew it was his attempt to break away from the sad memories thinking of her mother conjured, and she smiled.

"Good enough for Papa to begin teaching me how to manipulate elements."

"Like what?"

"Fire balls, spouts of water, things like that."

"Hmm, sounds boring." She scoffed.

"Well, what can _you _do? Obviously you can teleport, but that's nothing new."

"You wound me, you really do."

"I try."

"I can do a great many things, I'll have you know."

"Like what?" He sighed and sat up, pulling her up with him by the arm.

"There's so much I couldn't even begin to explain…but here's an example." Out of thin air, he pulled an orange flower speckled with yellow and red, with five large petals and a thick stem. He offered it to her with a cheeky grin. She touched a petal shyly and smiled as she admired it.

"Wow…it's so beautiful. What kind of flower is this?"

"A tiger lily."

She tried to delicately take it from him by the stem. He grinned and pulled it away gently, just out of reach. She huffed and tried again to take it from him, to no avail. In a fit of determination, she propelled herself forward and collided with him while reaching up to grab the flower. Just as her hand closed on the stem, Wendy felt herself falling with Peter onto the soft cushions below. She heard him grunt at the impact and felt his hands travel to her waist to steady her, but she was laughing as she could already imagine the startled look on his face. She pushed against him gently so she could stop crushing him, but when she noticed he wasn't laughing with her, she stopped too.

Peter had a peculiar look on his face as he stared at her. Her brows furrowed in confusion.

"What's wrong?" she asked. He seemed to snap out of his reverie and shook his head.

"Nothing...I just realized I have to go."

"Aw, why so soon?"

"There's something I need to take care of."

"Well, can't you tell me?"

"It's nothing to worry about, Wendy." She frowned in disappointment, but nodded and half-rolled to let him up. Wendy herself was beginning to feel the tug of the spell wearing off.

* * *

He didn't come the next four nights in a row, and it worried her. After long, her mind began drawing up questions that only made her imagination spin wildly. Was he in trouble? Did he not have time for her? Was it something she'd said? Something she'd done? It must be one of the latter, because he usually told her ahead of time if he wasn't going to be able to make it for one reason or another. She then had the fleeting thought, however melodramatic, that perhaps he was bored with her.

When she finally saw him the next night, she'd asked as much—if it was in fact her fault he'd decided not to come.

"Don't be silly, Wendy. I just had a problem that required more time than I originally thought," he said dismissively. "No reason to get yourself worked up."

She narrowed her eyes at him, but accepted his words all the same.

"What problem?" she asked. She was getting tired of how secretive he was with nearly _everything_. All the times he hadn't been able to meet her before, he never gave her the specifics as to _why_. No matter how many times or ways she asked, he would never tell her about how he had come to live in Neverland, how his magic worked, or even how old he was. Just that he would never grow any older than he was. Somehow, that thought made her the saddest of all.

"_My_ problem," he said, and his tone boded no further prying, so she let it be. Instead, she asked a question that had been on her mind for quite a while.

"Peter…why is it that you can't visit me in my home?" she asked. "You could meet Papa…I'm sure he would like you." He gave her a look of pure incredulity.

"Are you joking?" he choked out.

"Why is that so absurd?" His demeanor became exasperated and angry, and it confused Wendy.

"You don't understand, _he _wouldn't understand. _No_ adult understands!" he ranted, and paced forward to grip Wendy's shoulders. His cobalt stare bore into hers. "If he knew who I was, he wouldn't let us be together. _Ever_."

"Why? You haven't done anything to him! And he knows nothing of the perfume." He sighed and bowed his head a bit while his hands trailed down her arms to grasp her elbows.

"My reputation precedes me, Wendy. I'm not…in your world, I'm not thought of highly," he said. "If your children disappear in the night without explanation, to protect their own meager lives and standings, who do you think they blame?"

Her expression softened as the reason for his reaction came more into focus. Guiltily she thought of Thomas. He had never returned to his family after that night, and his parents had made it the talk of the town. When they visited her house the next morning to ask if she knew where he could have run off to, she lied.

"_I haven't seen him in a week or so, Ma'am. Have you checked the market?"_

The couple had gone there next, asking anyone and everyone. Wendy followed them with her father, who had promised to help look for the boy.

"_There's only one bein' who steals chil'ren in the night, an' we all know who 'e is," said the old town butcher knowingly. His derisive grin showed his crooked, yellow smile._

"_Nah, it couldn't be! He hasn't been around here in decades," said John, a confections baker._

"_Ye wanna bet? It was that devil, _Pan_, sure as I'm alive," he remarked. "He always comes back 'n due time. An' when he does, it ain't a pretty sight."_

Wendy winced.

"And if you told him about me…do you think he would not find the spell I gave you eventually? He would question as to how you were meeting me. Certainly not in the day while you had your chores to finish, and certainly not at night if he hasn't caught you leaving or returning home," he said. "One question leads to another until he finds the one that makes you nervous…magic makes you perceptive, Wendy, and your father is most likely no exception."

"I understand," she said quietly. The look on his face held anger, as well as frustration and…fear? Maybe, but why? All Wendy knew was, she didn't like that look. It didn't suit him.

So for the second time, she hugged him. She wrapped her arms around his middle, and he around her shoulders. Only she didn't expect him to drop his forehead onto her shoulder, breathing in deeply.

"I…" he trailed, letting his thought go unfinished.

"What?" she asked quietly.

He was silent, and the blank expression that suddenly claimed his features made hers pull downward in concern.

He was struggling with his words, but why? There was no reason to be nervous because of her.

"You can tell me anything," she encouraged, and tried to pull back a bit to look at his face. "I'm your friend." Peter held onto her stubbornly.

"Perhaps," he murmured, almost inaudibly.

Maybe he had been just as lonely as her. If not more so, just him on his island. If her thoughts were correct, it wasn't a wonder he had sought out other lost boys to keep him company. But it didn't seem like many of them were his actual _friends_, not even the tall hooded boy she had learned to be names Felix, who was clearly devoted to Peter. In fact, he didn't say much about the other Lost Boys unless they had done something particularly funny or outrageous that day.

He didn't have a family, but that didn't mean he couldn't be to her.

"You're my best friend," she admitted.

Or something like it. Something she felt stirring within her heart at the sight of him but couldn't name. Perhaps she simply didn't want to. She chocked it all down to being the best of friends and maybe he was like another brother…though somehow that wasn't it.

* * *

It was one of the questions that floated eternally around his head.

_Why the hell _had he let things go so far with her? It would have saved him many a headache if he had just let it die after those first two weeks. But no, he'd let it go on for nearly _three_ years.

Peter would admit, though, Wendy was good. She almost had him then, made him question himself and his motives. They hadn't been clear at first, but when he realized how pathetic she was, having him as her only friend, he knew that he would be able to convince her to do anything for him if he was able to keep her in the dark of how he really was.

Looking back, it hadn't been hard to play the part. She had been the easiest to play with, using her obvious affections to his advantage…but he did admit that while she wasn't the smartest girl in the world…spending time with her had been…fun…while it lasted. A worthy distraction.

Perhaps he even liked her.

"Pan, Henry is waiting for you."

"Yes, Felix. I know."

He still liked her. The way she used to smile and laugh with him, come up with new things to do that were simple and innocent entertainment, but so uniquely _Wendy_. Sometimes remembering those three years got him thinking of a time when maybe things could have been different. If he had been more honest, if he had let her brothers return with her, if she had been more understanding, less naïve…maybe she would have _wanted _to stay with him.

Here in this isle of enchantment and thorns and nightmares, and echoes of what could have been.

* * *

**Well, there's not too much I can say on this chapter. It took a lot out of me because it was originally almost three times as long, so I cut it sort of in half, which you'll be seeing in Part II. In fact, here's a sneak peak:**

"_The power of belief is the strongest magic of all," he said. She shook her head with a grin._

"_No…love is."_

_He raised a brow at her in surprise._

"_Oh?" he replied. "And how would you know that?"_

"_I know what it does."_


	5. Falling II

**Just so you all know, I love Regina as a character and I love her complex personality. It may seem like I'm treating her rottenly, but it will all be redeemed in the end, I promise!**

**In answer to Fraya, a lovely guest, thank you for your kind words. Though your guess is as good as mine! I'm starting off relatively slow and am not going too heavy at once with romance, so that might be why. But that will be remedied soon!**

* * *

_~Isle of Thorns~_

"_You'll remember me when the west wind moves__  
__Upon the fields of barley__  
__You'll forget the sun in his jealous sky__  
__As we walk in fields of gold."_

_Sting, "Fields of Gold"_

Chapter Five – Falling (and falling deeply) II

The wind stirred in the night, making it cold in the cavern, but it was more comfortable than she'd been in a while. Anything beat a wooden cage and metal restrictions. The mountainside partially blocked the morning sun and shaded their campsite while they woke and readied themselves for the day. They were relatively silent as they ate breakfast and washed up; the tensions between Wendy and Regina were obvious, and Rumpelstiltskin wouldn't be the one to stand between them until he had to.

Wendy and Rumpel began covering any signs of them having been there while Regina dismissed cushions and blankets with magic.

"So you've said you have a plan," Wendy said as she doused sand and water over the fire. "But you haven't explained to me how."

He opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by Regina's swift reply.

"As if we're going to tell you anything," Regina said dryly. "You're probably still working for him."

"Is that why I practically begged for you to let me out of the cage?" Wendy retorted.

"I don't know, from what I've heard you've become a pretty good actress."

"Who do you think I learned it from?" Wendy punctuated her words with a pointed look. Regina's eyes narrowed in agitation.

"Fair enough, but you were gullible and ignorant enough to trust me when all others were right to fear me," she retorted. "Sound familiar?"

"_I was a child!_" Wendy exclaimed furiously. Both women were growing closer to each other by the moment, the vehemence in their eyes alike as tendrils of magic glowed in the palms of Regina's hands. Rumpel thought it a good time to try and calm things down, however strange and exasperating he found his predicament.

_Is this what my existence has been reduced to? Babysitting? _He thought.

"This is not the time for squabbling," he interjected, trying his best to keep his tone from sounding _too_ condescending. "There is too much at stake."

"Yes, _my _son. Who at this moment is probably being brainwashed by that little demon _she_ somehow became infatuated with," said Regina, nodding her head in the younger girl's direction.

"You know, it's funny. _You_ haven't changed a bit," Wendy replied icily. "You _ruined my life_. And now you're throwing my mistakes back in my face."

"So you do admit your venture of trusting a boy in a _forest_ was a particularly stupid decision?"

"Oh yes, like a life of cold-blooded murder and exploit is any better."

Regina made a sound of utter frustration, igniting the fire once more as her hands began to glow a brighter violet. Wendy was still too depleted to call her natural red haze of magic to her fingertips. Before the argument could come to blows, Rumpelstiltskin extinguished the fire with a wave of his hand and stepped in between the two.

"Now you're _both _acting like children. If we have any prayer of continuing without you killing each other, I suggest you put the past behind you until the end of this," he said sternly.

A heavy silence fell upon the clearing as Regina and Wendy stared at one another; Regina with pursed lips, the latter mentally calculating if it would be worth it to bury decades worth of resentment for the sake of a boy she hardly knew. But in all fairness, she'd lied to Henry and probably given Pan exactly what he needed to carry on with his own ends. Even if it _had_ been for the reason of keeping her brothers safe, Wendy knew very well just how wrong it was to have given into her fears.

"Fine," Wendy relented. She looked away just as Regina did. Rumpelstiltskin could tell neither were satisfied, and probably wouldn't be silent with each other for long. But until they could reach the other side of the island where the Lost Boys' camp was, they would need to have their senses at the sharpest for any of Pan's tricks. Familial disputes would best be avoided.

Though if he remembered correctly from a story he was once told, he supposed it was Regina's legacy, after all: spare none to accomplish one's goals. Kin just happened to be the most ingenious sources of them all.

* * *

Sleet or hail, rain or shine, come hell or high water, her father would not skip her daily lesson. Not even for her birthday.

The only time she could remember having been able to get out of it was when she'd told him of having nightmares after her brothers' deaths; he'd been gracious that once. Overall her father wasn't a social person, nor particularly loving or affectionate. That had been all right for Wendy, because she wasn't particularly social either. But that didn't mean she didn't want to be able to enjoy his company, some quiet conversation or an occasional endearment. Even a hug or kiss on the cheek wouldn't have gone amiss.

The problem was that she hardly ever saw him except for their morning lesson. Then he would leave to sell spells and what he gathered from the harvest, and only returned in the evening around dinnertime. They would talk more then, sharing what had happened in their day. But the only serious conversation they shared was during his teachings, and mostly about the nature of magic within the world.

"_It should be an extension of yourself, in which you can be in tune with what surrounds you," he said, attempting to explain the push and pull that occurs within at the release of one's magic. "It is a tool as much as it is a part of you, and that can be both power and weakness."_

Wendy appreciated all he did to provide for her and care for her, but…there was just something missing in her empty house full of vacant rooms and halls.

"Wendy, concentrate."

His voice snapped her out of her reverie, and she looked up at him with a sheepish expression.

"Sorry, Papa." She returned to focusing on the object before her: a book. One that was enchanted, of course, but it was her task to decipher what it was enchanted _for_. While she wasn't adept at the practice of magic, under her father's tutelage she'd grown a knack for reading spells—what they were and how they'd been set. In the past few months, he decided to start on the higher level spells, teaching her everything from speaking through objects to changing appearances of herself and of others, her father being the unfortunate test subject.

"It's old…and very powerful," she observed. Her hands glowed scarlet as she held them poised above the dusty tome.

"Yes," he said with a nod. "Go on."

"It doesn't feel like anything I've read before…it feels like a passage of some kind…but that can't be right," she said, somewhat to herself. The feel of it confused her: it appeared to be opening up from the center, creating a swirling hole that threatened to swallow her in it.

"What's happening?" she asked in alarm. But with a wave of her father's hand, the book closed, taking the anomaly with it.

"That was a portal into another world, and also the perfect segway for the next half of my lesson for today," he said with a grin. She looked at him skeptically.

"What sort of world?"

"Well, to be specific, that was an entrapment spell," he clarified. "It's very powerful—" Before he could delve further into the topic, Wendy heard the distant sound of the front door being opened. The frame of the door scratched against the wooden flooring and creaked under the weight of leather boots.

"_Hellooo?_" a voice sang. Wendy looked up to see her father suddenly tense, a deep frown marring his features.

"Papa?" she asked.

"Why don't you go to your room?" It was more of a command than a question, but she pressed him all the same.

"Do you know who it is?" He gave her a stern look before heading out of the room.

"Wendy, do as I say," and his tone boded no argument as he made his way down the stairs. Wendy sighed and walked out after him with the intention of heeding him, but she couldn't help but pause and look down the staircase at who was at the door.

"Hello, Uncle Garen," the woman said pleasantly enough. From what Wendy could see, she was dressed a long gown, the deepest color purple she had ever seen, done up with a lace corset and matching finery. Whoever she was, she looked important. Five guards stood behind her holding their weapons at their sides.

"You have grown much since I saw you last…"

He folded his arms in front of him, looking down at her shorter form.

"…Your Majesty," he said belatedly. She smiled, but even Wendy could tell it didn't meet her eyes.

"I know, it _has_ been such a long time. I've been busy," she said, and strode forward with a gesture to the guards in her company to stay outside. "But while nothing would delight me more than spending the afternoon catching up…"

She paused and looked up at her uncle.

"I need your help."

"What, may I ask, is it you need assistance with?"

"I need a certain spell…you are the only one in the realm who has it fully intact," she said, glancing around absently.

"What such spell?" he asked slowly.

"It's in a book," she said, and smirked a bit as her eyes travelled the walls covered in shelves. "Well, I suppose I'll have to be more specific."

"If I can help you, I will," he said.

"Oh, I know. The benevolent Pagemaster could never refuse to help anyone, especially _family_," she said with a knowing grin. "What I seek is the entrapment spell. My kingdom is under attack from a vicious and ruthless enemy, and I require the book if no more blood is to be shed."

He sighed then, shaking his head.

"Regina, I cannot help you." Her pleasant, almost playful demeanor fell away as anger surged to the surface.

"Are you not the Keeper of the Books? Of this book in particular?" she asked irritably.

"Yes, but it will be of no use to you," he said. "There is much you do not know about the ancient texts…they are a tricky business."

"I think I can handle that," she said with a grin. But he shook his head again.

"If I were to give you the book, Regina, I would be a failure to the oaths I have taken. I know your intentions, and the spell would not suit your purpose."

For a moment, Wendy thought the Queen would try to hurt him, but eventually the fury in her eyes dimmed as her gaze flicked up to the top of the staircase. Their gaze met briefly before Regina returned her attention to the Pagemaster.

"Fine. I will be staying nearby for three days. Let me know if you decide to change your mind," she said, and swiftly turned on her heel. The door closed with a non-too gentle slam. Wendy cautiously made her way down the stairs and to Garen, who stood still for several seconds.

"Papa…why couldn't you help her?" Wendy asked. He looked down at her with a tired look.

"She is like my sister in many ways: ambitious, proud, and used to getting her own way," he replied. "But what I told her was true. The spell would be of no use to her."

* * *

Wendy sat against the tree and let out a tired sigh. They were stopping for a short rest after a long morning of walking. She was supposed to be collecting wood to burn so that they could cook the remaining fish they'd brought from the river, but with the turn her life was suddenly taking, she needed a minute or two by herself. She really just wanted to sit and do nothing.

_I've been doing that for too long, anyway,_ she thought.

It had been nearly four hours since they left the cave, and Wendy had been all too happy to leave it. There were too many…memories there that left a bitter taste in her mouth.

"Sleeping on the job?" a voice whispered in her ear. Her eyes snapped open as she jumped a bit. She slapped her hand over her mouth to stifle her gasp, but sighed again as she recognized the voice.

"Can't you give me a moment's peace?" she muttered. Peter Pan carried on as if she hadn't spoken. Instead, he stepped out from behind the tree and slid to the ground next to her. He drew his knees up to his chest, mirroring her position.

"Or thinking of happy memories?" he suggested with a knowing smirk. She rolled her eyes.

"Dead memories," Wendy replied. He surprised her by frowning at her solemn tone. She'd gotten a reaction from him, at least.

"I wouldn't say that. I still help the flowers bloom," he pointed out. As if it made the difference. "You saw them."

She shook her head.

"I didn't go behind the mountain."

He was quiet for a moment, considering this.

"I remember when we used to dance there," he said softly. For a second, his serious tone made her pay attention, but she tried to tune him out all the same. "It was always sunny without the mountainside to block out the sky, but the west winds cooled the air…you used to beg me to take you there."

_The light made his dusty hair shine golden. His eyes were softer, kinder when he laughed and toyed with a strand of her auburn hair. She would tease his face with a marigold just to hear the sound._

She closed her eyes to block out the sting in them. He was using this to manipulate her, she knew—to distract her from trying to do the right thing.

"Please stop," she said just as quietly.

"Why?" he asked. The petulant tilt of his head, as if he was genuinely confused, grated at her. "Are these not pleasant memories?"

"All of it was a lie, so it doesn't matter," she replied shortly. "You know that's why I'm here…you finally convinced me of what I am to you."

"I wouldn't say _that_…but I did what I had to," he said. But when she stood and turned to tell him exactly what she thought of his efforts, Rumpelstiltskin called out for her, asking what was taking so long. She cursed under her breath.

"Sorry, I tripped and dropped everything," she called back. "I'll be right there."

She wasn't surprised when she glanced behind her and didn't see Pan.

"I'll do what I have to as well," she whispered. "You always did."

* * *

She went to see Peter that night after the Queen's visit, mostly because the day had been confusing and long. He always provided stress relieve in the smallest of ways.

Garen had decided to forgo the rest of their lesson until the next day, but she still had to keep up with her chores. Their evening dinner was made special, however, by the cake he bought from the baker that day. It was chocolate, her favorite, with the special buttercream icing her mother used to make with her from scratch. The gesture had warmed her, but not as much as his parting words to her before he made his leave to read in his study.

"_No father, in this world or the next, will ever be as proud as I of his daughter."_

He'd kissed the top of her head and braced her shoulder with his large, warm hand. She'd been too shocked to utter a reply.

"Come on, Wendy, why are you being so weird?" Peter's voice snapped her out of the memory.

"I'm sorry, Peter. Just a bit distracted," she said, but then grinned. She looked ahead where the river's calm waves met the shore, all the way until the ground rose into rocky mounts. About half way up the formation there was a dark, gaping hole surrounded by boulders.

"I'll race you there!" she said, pointing to it. Before he had a chance to reply, she took off.

"_Eat my dust!_" she called behind her. Though she knew she wouldn't beat him now that it was a challenge, she laughed to herself at just being able to be here.

_It isn't real_, her mind reminded her. _None of this is. Even _he _might not be real._

Now that was just ridiculous. Of course Peter was real, she just didn't get to see him in person very often. Just once a year for the past three…there were reasons he couldn't come to this world often. That old butcher being one of them.

_You could come to him_, her mind reasoned. But that was…probably not a good idea. If she went with him, she would want to stay. And the simple fact was that she couldn't. Her father still needed her.

…But she cared for Peter.

"Getting tired yet?" a voice whispered in her ear, and she yelped in surprise, losing her footing on the way to stopping. Her eyes closed as she braced herself for impact.

Before she could hit the ground, _hard_, she felt familiar arms wrap around her waist and pull her back flush against his chest. When her eyes opened, she gasped as she looked down at the forest and river so far below her.

_Pixie dust_, she thought when she noticed the green haze around them.

Wendy heard Peter chuckling above her. The sound both annoyed her and made her flush. The wind was hitting her face and making the skirt of her dress fly about, but the feeling was exhilarating. A smile upturned her lips as she closed her eyes, and her arms flew out in a glide. She would always feel safe when Peter was holding her, even if they were soaring miles high.

_It's only a dream, after all_, her mind thought treacherously.

Soon, she felt him slowing down and she opened her eyes. The mountain cave was quickly coming into sight.

When they were just over it, Peter slowed entirely and she turned in his arms so that her hands came to rest on his shoulders. They floated down until their feet touched the ground, but neither seemed inclined to pull away just yet.

Wendy peered up shyly into light blue eyes. They were trained on her in a soft expression, and it made her smile. From the very beginning, that gaze had entranced her, just as his voice had aided it, while his touch nailed finality into the proverbial coffin. He leaned down ever so slightly, and her breath caught in her chest.

But all too soon the spell was broken. He pulled away and led her into the cave. It had become their special place to sit and talk and simply be. She loved the view of the river and practically half the island from here, but most of all, the field of flowers near the base of the mountainside. Beautiful flowers in yellows and oranges and reds that shone gold when the sun's rays fell on them _just_ right, where they would sometimes lay and watch the clouds or chase one another amongst them. It sounded silly, but it was her favorite part about coming here.

Peter walked ahead of her as she began to slow, and she couldn't help but feel disappointment heavy in her chest, even as the thought scared her. She'd known what he was about to do, and she _wanted _it to happen…even if it was just a dream.

_Why?_

"Are you thirsty?" he asked casually over his shoulder.

"A bit. I've wondered how that can be in this place, at times it feels so real," she said, accepting the cup of tea he offered her. She didn't have to ask where he had gotten it from, because she knew. Magic really was the answer to everything.

They sat down in the middle of the clearing amongst cushions and fleece blankets. The sky was clear and beautiful, and she wondered if it would really be this beautiful in Neverland.

"The power of belief is the strongest magic of all," he said. She shook her head with a small smile, even though a pang of sadness entered her heart at a particular recollection.

"_If you have to mourn me, don't dwell in it, Wendy…in this life, there is pain, but also joy in memory." Wendy looked up into those kind eyes, even as her own filled with tears that spilled onto her cheeks._

"_Why?" she asked. _

"_Because there is love that evokes both…it is the strongest of anything you can imagine."_

There were many things she remembered about her mother. The smell of fresh bread brought Wendy to a time when she enjoyed waking early enough to possibly steal a slice before her brothers woke. She remembered a voice smooth and soft as velvet that told the best bedtime stories Wendy would ever hear; eyes the color of a storm; a warm embrace that always felt _safe_. But most of all, Wendy remembered being treasured, and cared for in a way only someone who loved you could.

Wendy looked up and smiled genuinely.

"No…love is."

He raised a brow at her in surprise.

"Oh?" he replied. "And how would you know that?"

"I know what it does."

She gazed up at Peter. There was no one else that she could talk to like this, so carefree. Though she also knew there was no one else who could infuriate her so much, or tease her without being harmful, or make her laugh so openly. With him there were no walls, no right or wrong way of doing things. Most of all, he made her feel wanted, cherished even. And everything was always exciting and new, but at the same time familiar, as only an old friend can make you feel.

That was what love did.

"And what is that?" he asked curiously.

"Well, it gives purpose."

"To what?"

She paused thoughtfully, searching his face. Wendy felt exceedingly stupid for not having seen it in herself before, but looking at him now, she realized how much she valued his friendship, his care of her. How much she didn't want to be without him, even if he didn't show her all of him.

_I love him._

She had fallen and fallen deep.

"Everything," she said with a smile. "Why I continue to help Papa even though it only makes me tired and lonely. Why I try not to complain too much about not seeing him often, or getting to leave the house much during the day…"

Wendy hesitated. Peter's expression was confused and somewhat wary, as if he was nervous. Good, because she was too. He was so close, mere inches, and it was making her increasingly aware of both him and her own heartbeat.

"It's why I come here in my dreams…so I can be with you," she confessed. His eyes widened in shock as the gravity of what she was really saying seemed to hit home. He stood immediately and took a few steps away from her, his expression guarded and skeptical.

His actions didn't surprise her. He was always trying to wiggle out of serious conversations, especially if it had to do with his emotions or anything else he deemed personal. This certainly counted as one of those things.

"You don't know what you're talking about," he said firmly. "You don't even know me."

She raised a brow and stood, dusting off the skirt of her dress.

"Really?" she asked, and stepped closer to him. He backed away a step, so she stopped.

"I know you were just as lonely as me when we met…it's true, you do hide a lot from me, but I think it's because you're afraid," she said softly.

"You don't know _anything_," he said coolly, "of who I really am, so how can you claim to care for me?"

She had to admit there was some truth to what he was saying. She knew by the guilt and fear hidden behind his anger, even if he didn't realize he was displaying it.

"_I_ know underneath all of _this_," she said, gesturing to his form. "This callousness, you're still the person that decided to be my friend, who taught me how to have enjoy myself and trust someone who understood how I felt."

He regarded her silently, a slow smirk spreading across his face. His demeanor seemed to change with the straightening of his posture, as he looked down at her in condescension. It was something she'd never seen him look upon her with, and it was beginning to make her feel very afraid.

"Well, _Wendy_," he said with contempt. "How do you know I didn't just do this for kicks?"

She frowned at him, her brows knitting together. Why was he being this way?

"W-What do you mean?" she asked in confusion.

"What if I just wanted some way to pass the time? As much as I hate to admit it, my long years can get boring. Really, Wendy, what makes you so special," he asked with a smirk. She glared at him as she felt the telltale sting in her eyes, but she willed herself not to cry.

"Showing up in my dreams almost every night for three years is a pretty pathetic way of passing the time," she said, unimpressed. "Why didn't you just get a hobby?"

"You _were_ my hobby."

Okay, that one hurt. More than it should have, but now he was just being cruel when he never had been before. It was getting increasingly difficult to see what was him protecting himself, or what was him simply telling the truth he had hidden from her.

"I don't believe you," she tossed back. "Even now, you're being defensive."

He scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"You're just a delusional, little girl," he said. Wendy stifled her gasp and instead, bit her lip as tears began to slide down her cheeks. She noted the brief look of uncertainty that flicked across his face before it was covered by a smirk. It was enough, she noted with satisfaction. She was right, even if he wanted to pretend differently.

Wendy stepped up to him slowly.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked, but he didn't move. She almost smiled, but restrained it in favor of leveling him with a determined look.

_Testing you,_ she thought.

By the time she stopped, they were barely an inch apart, chests brushing. Wendy reached up a hand to cup his cheek. He flinched at her touch and automatically reached up to grab her wrist.

"_What_ are you doing?" he repeated.

It was a stern hold, but gentle. Always he was gentle with her even if he didn't realize it.

"You mean to tell me everything has been a fantasy?" she asked in a whisper. "Well, _I don't_ _believe you._"

At seeing his conflicted expression, she reached up with her other hand and held his face in her tender grasp. Using his confusion to her advantage, she moved before he had a chance to pull away.

Wendy reached up and touched her lips to his. Peter's were soft under hers, and she relished in the feeling of his hands gripping her waist. He tilted his head and deepened the kiss, pulling her closer as her hands sunk into his hair, and she couldn't help but think this felt like flying.

_No, better than flying._

But too soon he began to pull away, and rested his forehead onto hers as they breathed heavily.

"You won't want this," he said. "Once you've seen…you'll run from me, and I won't let you go. It'll be forever."

"Why?" she breathed. He smiled then even as his eyes closed.

"Because I've never been good at letting go of what interests me."

Her hands slid down to lightly grip his tunic.

"If you show me a little at a time, I might not be so shocked," she suggested. "I might actually promise forever."

"I'm not a good person, Wendy," he said gravely. So much so that while she had her doubts, she worried her lip at how hard this was going to be.

"Why weren't you honest with me from the beginning?" she asked in frustration. "I could have walked away, and neither of us would be so conflicted now."

"…I…don't know…I play games as they come, Wendy," he admitted. "I didn't think this would happen."

_So, this was _supposed _to be another game, _she thought. _But now it isn't._

"You've never harmed me…in fact, you've helped me more than you'll ever know," she said. "I find it hard to believe that you could be so terrible."

He didn't answer for a long moment, and it only gave Wendy a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She _had_ seen him change faces in a matter of moments. He'd said_ exactly_ the right things that he knew would hurt her to try and convince her of his apathy. It was deliberate, but…she'd just proven he _did_ care.

"Show me, and let me decide for myself if I want this," she said stubbornly. Even if it meant staying with him in Neverland forever…her father would understand if she explained it to him.

_What am I _thinking? _This is insane… _

But something within her couldn't let Peter go; even if everything had been a game to him, it hadn't been to her.

"You'll live to regret it," he promised, though he held onto her tighter. Something in his voice told her he knew from experience.

_He obviously has issues with things not going according to plan_, her rational mind told her. _If you say yes now, he'll never let you go._

Somehow, at the moment, it didn't seem like such a bad thing. And for once, she wanted to be selfish. She _would_ be selfish.

_Father will understand…and if he doesn't, well…it's my decision what to do with my life_, she thought.

"Why are you warning me then?" she asked.

"To give you a sporting chance."

"If that's true, then answer one question truthfully first."

"Ask it."

"Do you care for me?"

He was silent for a long moment, but he pulled away far enough to stare into the green depths of her eyes.

"More than what's good for me."

It was the most honest thing he'd ever said to her.

**I suffered through this one, friends. God Almighty did I suffer. This Peter Pan is a complex character who is hard to write about thirty-five years in advance while still staying true to his personality. I think I'm failing, but you be the judge. This backstory sequence is nearly finished though, just about two more chapters of it before we get into some of the more recent years of Wendy's past, along with some interactions between other characters. **

**Here's a sneak peak at the next chapter: **

"_I believe…I believe in Neverland," she whispered. The wind tousled her hair and nipped at the skin uncovered by her clothing. Wendy looked down at her blue dress and brown boots, and wondered if she should bring a shawl. A voice hissed above her and startled her, making her gasp. Snapping her attention to the sound of it, she saw a black figure, though it was somewhat transparent. Its eyes glowed a burning amber, and she realized it was Peter's shadow._

"_Have you come for me?" she asked. It didn't respond, but grabbed her hand and tugged her out the window and into the open air. _

_It had been a stupid question, really._


	6. Betrayal

**I do hope you all don't mind this back and forth between past and present, but I would think you all would be used to it by now with watching **_**OUAT**_**. I hope to be picking things up in speed. Just know that the time frame that things happened in the episode "Think Lovely Thoughts" will not be as fast as in this story. For plot developing reasons, I have to slow it down. **

**I've been brushing up on some research of other adaptions of the **_**Peter Pan**_** story, including the original play by J. M. Barrie. I read some interesting details that will mostly end up influencing this story in small ways, but will influence nonetheless.**

**As I usually write these chapters with music floating along in the background, sometimes I'll hear something that fits exactly with what I'm trying to portray—hence the quotes at the beginning of select chapters. Not all of them will have one, but I feel it sets the tone somewhat. Anyway, on to the story!**

* * *

_~Isle of Thorns~_

"_I, I can't promise you__  
__that I won't ever let you down__  
__And I, I can't promise you__  
__that I will be the only one around__  
__when your hope falls down."_

_Mumford & Sons, "Hold On to What You Believe"_

Chapter Six - Betrayal (and all its colors)

The road that split the village in half was long and winding, meandering about as if whoever had first settled there and begun building their homes had gotten bored along the way. And it was always busy, filled with bustling townsmen and women going about their business. The market square was always the most crowded, from early morning until the evening with shopkeepers haggling with their customers and merchants trading their fine silks and other acquired special items.

Garen sent Wendy out to the market that morning to pick up grains and flour and other small supplies they would need for the next couple of weeks while he sold spells and traded books. It took her an hour and a half, but she was finally on her way home with her load. She walked slowly, aiming to take her time before having to return home to more chores. The distance of the trek also gave her time to think about all Peter had told her the night before, but quite honestly, the thought of him was infuriating her.

He had obviously lied to her for so long, but still managed to ensnare her into coming to Neverland. His shadow was to retrieve her tonight while Garen slept, and bring her back before morning.

_What am I hoping to accomplish? Going there will only make me want to stay, and even if I do come back, Peter's patience will only last so long,_ she thought miserably. But the main problem was, she wasn't sure of Peter or his intentions toward her anymore. Was she just a distraction from whatever it was he did when they weren't together, or did she actually have purpose in his life? What kind of life would she have if she stayed in Neverland anyway? It wasn't as if she'd ever been there in person.

Wendy hazarded kicking a rock out of her way as she plodded along with her basket. What she didn't expect was for the small stone to hit a traveling coach. It appeared in the corner of her eye and managed to startle her when it suddenly stopped beside her. Wendy couldn't help but pause in curiosity when the door opened, revealing a youthful woman wearing both a dark gown and a pleasant smile.

Recognition dawned on her right away as she realized this was the woman that had come to see her father.

"Hello, dear," she greeted. "I believe we nearly met yesterday in my uncle's home."

"Yes, your Majesty," Wendy said politely with a respectful nod, remembering how Garen had addressed her.

"You are his daughter, aren't you?"

"Yes…I'm Wendy."

"Good! That must make us cousins," she said with a grin. Wendy's eyes widened in comprehension.

"I suppose it does," she admitted. The Queen eyed the girl's basket with a frown.

"I see you have a heavy burden there," she observed. "Why don't you ride with me? You must be awfully tired if you've been walking with it all this time."

"Oh, I couldn't impose, your Majesty." Wendy shook her head.

"Nonsense," Regina dismissed, and beckoned her over. Reluctantly, and against her better judgment, Wendy stepped into the carriage. She admired its largeness and comfortable seating as she set down her basket beside her.

"Now, finally we meet each other properly," Regina said. Wendy gave a small smile, though her gaze dropped to her folded hands.

"You're not mad with my father?" she asked. "You seemed quite cross when he couldn't help you."

The Queen sighed, a frown marring her features.

"He was trying to protect the book, I know, but may I speak freely with you?"

Wendy nodded.

"He doesn't know how much I need that spell," she said with a regretful look. "You see, a most powerful sorcerer is attacking my kingdom, targeting the people closest to me in hopes of defeating me and taking rule over my people. Nothing I try has worked so far, but I've read that an entrapment spell may successfully subdue him where he can no longer harm my people, and will not be able to harm himself either. It would prevent so much bloodshed…"

Regina looked down at the rings on her fingers before looking back up at Wendy. The girl had a newfound admiration for the queen who would go to such lengths to protect the kingdom and those she loved. It made her want to help her cause, though she knew not what she could do.

"I'm sorry," Wendy said helplessly. "I wish I could help you…that sounds terrible."

Regina sighed and nodded. Wendy regarded her silently, taking in the older woman's fine jewelry of emeralds set in pale gold, along with the eccentric hairpiece entwined with russet locks in the shape of a wild flower. It reminded Wendy of the tiger lily Peter had once gifted her so long ago, and it evoked an aching feeling in her chest. She looked down at her hands again.

"That is the look of a girl conflicted," Regina remarked gently. "Is it your father, perhaps?"

Wendy shook her head slowly.

"No," she said softly, still not meeting her gaze.

"Oh," the Queen said, her dark eyes widening. "Then it's the other."

The girl looked up at her inquiringly.

"A melancholy that can only be brought about by someone special to you," she said knowingly. "A neighbor boy, perhaps."

Wendy's lips quirked upward, but without humor.

"Not a neighbor," she corrected. But the accuracy of her guess was understood.

"They are always troublesome, but such a look of despondency doesn't belong on such a lovely face," said Regina, making Wendy blush and duck her head a bit. "What seems to be the problem?"

"I-It's a long story," Wendy said. In truth, it was a weight on her mind that was waiting to explode, but who could she talk to about these things? Surely not her father. It was in times such as these when the bone-deep desire to see her mother again brought her nearly to tears.

_But now, someone is willing to actually listen to me_, she thought, though Wendy was still uncertain of the Queen's motives.

"I have the time," Regina assured. But when the girl continued to stay silent, she tilted her head to the side and smiled. It was small and forlorn, and Wendy could identify the emotions that played on the woman's face.

"I once knew a man who managed to capture my attention with the slightest glance, touch of my hand, or when he said my name," she said. "He was my friend and had my trust, but I didn't learn until it was too late that he also had my heart."

Wendy looked up and met Regina's gaze, both comforting and understanding shone there.

"What happened?" she asked quietly, her curiosity piqued.

"He thought I had spurned him in my ignorance, and decided that his love was a curse," she said. Her voice was soft, but held a weight that spoke volumes to Wendy and engrossed her into the tale. "He turned on me by rallying others who would oppose me, and then by threatening to take my kingdom."

Wendy's eyes widened in realization.

"The sorcerer…he's the one who is doing this?" she asked.

"Clever girl," Regina said with a humorless grin. "I understand what it's like to be torn by the ones you love."

The hint was subtle, but Wendy caught it. Now that the Queen had shared a secret, it would only be fair to share hers with her cousin. Though it didn't make saying it any easier.

"My father can't know," Wendy warned. Regina assuaged her peace of mind by promising not to repeat anything, so Wendy told her of a boy who came from another land, and became fast friends with her, even visiting her in her dreams so they could be with one another. But just as she had bared her heart to him, he had rejected her in his claim of it all being one big game, something to sooth his boredom in immortality. Though Wendy had caught him in his lie of not caring about her, there was still something…dark within him, something he kept hidden that could ruin…whatever it was they had.

"What land is he from?" Regina asked curiously.

"He calls it Neverland, though I hadn't heard of it before," said Wendy. "It's a place where you can never grow old, and is enchanted with strange magic. He says it can be dangerous…where imagination can run wild."

Surprise flickered through the Queen's expression, though it was quickly replaced by interest.

"I'm afraid because…well, I know he wants me to stay with him. Despite everything, part of me wants to," said Wendy. "And while I've convinced myself that I can't leave Papa, somehow I'm not so sure he needs me. I think I'm afraid that he won't allow me to go."

It was a confession that gave her release; though at the same time frightened her still. She'd never admitted it to anyone, and maybe she hadn't known the fear was there until she spoke it aloud. Contrary to her expectations, Regina didn't belittle her or degrade her for her disclosures. Instead, she smiled encouragingly.

"You've managed to surprise me, and that doesn't happen often," she said. "But if there is one thing I know of your father, is that he is generous with his time and his compassion. You are his only daughter. I'm sure if he sees that you have found a love worth fighting for, he will understand."

"D-Do you…think so?" Wendy asked.

"You'll only know when you try," she said. The carriage then rolled to a stop. Wendy peered outside the window and saw that her house was distant, but in view. "Don't make the mistake I did…once you find love, it shouldn't matter what you have to do to keep it. It's the most powerful magic, after all."

Wendy smiled and thanked her gratefully for her advice and for allowing her to ride in the coach. She only wished there was something she could do to repay the Queen for her kindness. Then, a thought occurred to her.

_Papa would kill me, _she thought. But really, she doubted he needed the book more than Regina did.

"What if there was a way you could retrieve the spell?" Wendy said. Regina regarded her in surprise.

"That would be fantastic and highly improbable, but I'll bite. How?" she asked.

"If you come tomorrow morning, I'll take care of the rest."

* * *

Compared to her morning, the rest of the day was slow to pass, though she remained busy as always. Her and Regina's conversation gave Wendy new energy, however, and she tackled her responsibilities with vigor. By the time dinner came, she was starved but not tired. She and Garen ate in relative silence, mostly because her head was spinning at the thought of what she planned to do. Never in her life had she felt so reckless, but at the same time she'd acquired a sense of confidence that she was acting for the good of others.

The night brought no deterrence to her resolve as she stood by her bedroom window.

"I believe…I believe in Neverland," she whispered as the wind tousled her hair and nipped at the skin uncovered by her clothing. Wendy looked down at her blue dress and brown boots, and wondered if she should bring a shawl. A voice hissed above her and startled her, making her gasp. Snapping her attention to the sound of it, she saw a black figure, though it was somewhat transparent. Its eyes glowed a burning amber, and she realized it was Peter's shadow.

"Have you come for me?" she asked. It didn't respond, but grabbed her hand and tugged her out the window and into the open air.

It had been a stupid question, really.

She couldn't help but scream as they flew into the night sky, faster and higher than she'd ever flown before, up into the stars. Specifically, the second star to the right.

She closed her eyes tightly as a flash of light temporarily blinded her, but when she had the courage to open them again, she was on a sandy shoreline. To her left was a great ocean rolling with waves, while to her right, from what she could see in the darkness, was the jungle. It was all familiar and completely foreign at once, but she smiled as she began her trek to where she thought the Lost Boys' camp might be.

Wendy didn't have to walk very far, however, as five Lost Boys came out from the cover of the foliage. One she recognized immediately as Felix, while the others looked familiar though she didn't readily remember their names.

"Hello," she greeted them with a smile. She would try and ignore the sharp weapons they carried.

"He's expecting you," Felix said flatly, and turned to start off toward the jungle once more. Wendy rolled her eyes. She hadn't been expecting the warmest of welcomes, least of all from Felix. Though she thought that the least Peter could have done was come to meet her.

_I don't know what to expect. Not here._

It was ten minutes before they arrived to the main camp where they lived, and it was nothing like she imagined. They stood in the middle of a large clearing where a bonfire was lit smoking into the night sky, while other boys played and dueled each other with swords. Around the clearing were houses that looked more like glorified shacks, but still somehow homely. Peter once told her that each one housed several Lost Boys, and his was at the far end where a large tree—the largest she'd ever seen in her life—made up a house.

_Of course, he told me he lived in a tree house, not a literal hollowed out tree. _

The other four boys went about their own business while Felix stayed with her.

"Follow me," he said over his shoulder. Wendy obliged, trailing after him even as she took in all the sights. They came to the front door of the house where Felix stepped inside. He didn't bothering to knock, which Wendy thought was rude but didn't comment on. To her astonishment, they were met with a staircase that wound downward into darkness. Torches lit the long way, and each minute passing set Wendy more and more with anticipation (and nervousness). Felix stopped once they reached a spacious room, like a living area, except with something akin to a kitchen to the right, and a table integrated into the wall to the left. The far wall was closed off with only a curtain for a door in the center. Wendy assumed that was where Peter was hiding.

"Wait," Felix warned when she stepped forward. She turned to glare at him and would have uttered a sharp reply, if it weren't for the voice that interrupted.

"It's all right, Felix."

Wendy's gaze snapped up at the sound of his voice, and she couldn't stop the way the pace of her heart quickened. He was smirking at her, his eyes flashing with amusement.

"Anything else for tonight?" Felix asked.

"Not for a couple hours, get some rest," Peter replied. The other boy nodded and took his leave, all the time carrying his club over his shoulder. A few moments after he left, Wendy and Peter still stood apart from each other, regarding one another in silence.

Nonetheless, Wendy finally grew impatient and stepped forward into his welcoming embrace. She reveled in the feeling of him holding her tightly to him, making her feel relieved and warm.

"It's been such a long time," he said quietly, his breath tickling her ear. She breathed a sigh.

"I missed you," she replied. "Even if you scared me yesterday."

Peter pulled away slightly to peer into the ivy green of her irises.

"This is what I remember about yesterday."

He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers, tender yet demanding. It took Wendy by surprise, but she kissed back with as much vigor, clinging to the material of his tunic. She loved the feeling of his hand tangling into her hair, and she pressed herself closer to him as he cupped the back of her head. Wendy didn't know when her eyes closed, but when she opened them again, his forehead rested against hers as their labored breaths mingled in the small space separating them.

"Now we can't say it never happened," she said. He chuckled slightly, caressing her cheek with a thumb. When his hand hesitated, however, she noticed the strange look upon his face. It was hard to read, but it made him seem…drawn, and melancholy, despite the enthusiasm he'd shown only moments before. It wasn't like him.

"No, we can't," he agreed, though he pulled back more so that Wendy could regain her bearings. She made a sound of discontentment at the loss of contact, but pulled a russet strand of hair behind her ear and straightened her dress.

"What is it that you want to do?" he asked. She smiled warily.

"I want to see Neverland…for what it is."

* * *

He showed her everything, or as much as he could without getting them killed. They flew to Mermaid Lagoon, though he explicitly warned her never to enter there.

"I seem to recall something about the mermaids being loyal to you," she said with a raised brow.

"Because they fear me. But not anyone else…especially not a girl," he said with a grin.

They passed the Echo Caves and Dead Men's Peak, both agreeing it would be best to avoid them altogether. And amongst all that and more was their cave, and the flower field. Wendy passed her hand over them as they walked, taking in the softness of their petals with a smile.

"Nothing has changed from what I remember, just more wild and…freeing somehow," she said.

"It's because the magic of the island runs free here, where before we were only in a dreamlike dimension—a copy of it," he replied. "This is real."

"I like it," she admitted. He smiled at her, but soon an emotion she couldn't place flitted past his eyes, and his smile faded.

"We should be getting back," he said, and took her hand in his. For the sake of time, he used pixie dust again to fly them back to the shore. She wondered why he didn't just bring them back to the camp. Rolling hills were in view, and tapered down into a valley of dirt and rock. She almost hadn't noticed, until she heard the distant sounds of crying, wailing, some screaming.

"What is that?" she asked him in alarm. His expression was blank.

"See for yourself."

Uncertainly, she let go of his hand and drifted closer to the valley. Without being seen, she peered over the edge. Torches held by Lost Boys lit up the clearing, allowing her to see the twenty or so other children who were there. Many were dressed oddly and crying, others were angrily stomping around or arguing with the Lost Boys, while some lay or sat on the ground in silence or quietly chatting with one another. But she saw the melancholy in their demeanors, the longing that shone in their eyes as they warily took in their surroundings.

She felt Peter crouch at her side as his arm brushed hers.

"What is this place?" she whispered.

"It's where the new ones are received," he said.

"New what?"

"Lost Boys."

She looked up at him, horrified.

"My shadow finds those who are lost, those that believe. Sometimes they feel like going home," he explained, that same blank expression making him seem callous and detached from what they were seeing. It made Wendy feel sick.

"You don't let them leave," she realized, her eyes widening.

"Sometimes I do, if I think they don't have what it takes to stay alive here," he said. "The ones that do…well, they just need a little more time to adjust. In time, they always do."

"That's _horrible_," she said vehemently. "You would take them from their homes and deny them their freedom?"

"They learn to love it here," he said coldly, and pulled her up by her arm. He dragged her away from the edge and led them into the jungle.

"But why?" she asked helplessly. "It's _cruel_, Peter!"

"So is life," he said mercilessly. "You of all people should know that."

It was as if he'd struck her. She flinched and stopped, ripping her arm out of his grasp.

"And you of all people should know how losing my brothers _almost killed me!_" she exclaimed. It was the first time she'd ever yelled at him, and it evoked an expression of mild surprise on his part. "To lose one's family…those you love, _forever_, is something I wouldn't wish on anyone."

He regarded her silently, a contemplating look darkening his features. His gaze dropped to the ground for a split second before meeting hers. She hardly recognized him.

"Come with me," he said, and started forward.

"Why?" she questioned sharply. He stopped and partially looked over his shoulder, but not quite at her.

"There's something you need to see."

Wendy instantly grew fearful and wary, but she followed him. It was another few minutes until they reached the camp. But instead of returning to his tree, they went to the left side of the camp and stopped before coming to one of the cabins. Like the rest, they were made of wood and animal skins for the roof, and tarps covering the windows. Peter opened the wooden door, and Wendy wondered if the concept of knocking was lost in this place.

It was dark when they entered, as many of the boys were asleep. Peter stayed close to the door but nudged her forward. She was confused and looked at him strangely. He simply gestured forward with his eyes.

_What is he playing at? I don't want to disturb them if they're sleep—"_

No. This couldn't be.

"Wendy?" a small voice asked, accompanied by a boy with shaggy brown hair that fell into his eyes.

"John?" she asked in shock. He ran to her, and she could only gather him up in her arms, holding him tighter and tighter until she thought her heart would burst. She opened her eyes, absently wondering when she had closed them, and realized that tears were pouring down both their cheeks. Then she felt a small hand tug at her dress.

"Wendy?"

She looked down once more and couldn't stifle the sob that escaped from her.

"_Michael!_"

"Hey, keep it down! Some of us are _trying_ to sleep."

"Quiet, Slightly," snapped another.

"Aw, who asked you!"

"I said shut up!"

Wendy had to laugh through her tears as she hugged her boys closer to her. She slid John's hair out of his eyes at marveled at how he looked exactly how she remembered him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. Anger surged within her, and she swung her attention to Peter. He stood by the door, unaffected by the furious gaze she dealt him.

"_How could you?_" she seethed, and stood to walk up to him. He grabbed her wrist when she aimed to slap him, and dragged her out the door. It didn't matter; her brothers followed and it only allowed her to yell at him more freely.

"How could you _do this to me?" _she shouted. "Why didn't you _tell me?_"

"I saved them from a brutal death at the hands of ogres, and they were grateful to me," he shot back. He gripped both of her wrists when she tried to attack him again.

"They never asked to go home?" she asked incredulously.

"Eventually, of course. But they soon grew to love living here like everyone else."

She turned to her brothers for confirmation.

"Is that true, John? Michael? Do you…really like it here?"

"Yeah, it's fun," said John. "We learned how to properly fight with swords and hunt."

"And we play all kinds of games," Michael added with a grin, though he looked at Peter hopefully. "You aren't going to make her go, are you?"

"She needs to leave before the morning," he said firmly. Wendy looked at him in earnest.

"Please, Peter, let them come with me," she pleaded. He scoffed and dropped her arms away from him.

"Come now, Wendy. You know me better than that."

"_Do I?_" she accused, raising her voice.

"No! Let her stay here!" Michael protested.

"_Please_, she's our sister," said John. Wendy looked at them pitifully, and with no small amount of disbelief.

"Don't you want to come back home and see Papa? It would relieve him so much to see you," she said. Her brothers gave her mirroring looks of puzzlement.

"Do we…have a papa?" Michael asked. John shrugged, but was clearly trying to remember. Wendy's eyes widened in horror.

"I-Impossible…"

"The land helps you adjust," Peter whispered in her ear. "And soon, you forget those who didn't matter."

"He was their father, of course he _mattered_," she replied coarsely.

"Apparently not enough."

Her lips pressed in a thin line with the strain of holding in her emotions, mostly furious and terrified, and she could feel her heart breaking with every moment she stayed here. Her brothers watched with concern, but at her insistence, they went back inside their lodgings to wait for her.

"Take me home," she demanded in a whisper, though she refused to look at him. "And let them come with me."

"I'll let you go, but they must stay," he said coldly. "They're Lost Boys now…and Lost Boys stick together."

"Why are you doing this?" she said brokenly. He was undeterred.

"Because you're coming back."

"Like hell I will," but her voice was tremulous, even to her own ears.

_Someday I'll get my brothers back, just without having to set foot here again._

"Oh, Wendy," he said, and set his hands gently on her shoulders. She could feel his warm breath on her neck, and it was all she could do to remain still against his touch. Her mind screamed at her to flee.

"I believe you promised me forever…know that I don't take promises lightly."

**Well, as you can see things are starting to heat up. But there is still more to come!**

**A snippet of what's coming next:**

"_I'm not asking you to come with me, but I do need something; a certain magical item before I can begin."_

"_Ah, after all this time, we finally get to it," he said with relish. "I must admit, you have piqued my interest."_

_She raised a brow._

"_But what will be your cost?"_

"_I believe you have already paid in full," he said with a secretive smile. "Like I said, interesting stories are hard to come by."_


	7. Desperation

**Just going to say again, I love Regina and Lana Parilla and all she stands for. Just bear with me as I use her character as an instrument of evil, and Hook's for a temporary source of strife. XD**

* * *

_~Isle of Thorns~_

Chapter Seven – Desperation (calls for fire)

She was able to spend half an hour longer with her brothers, talking and reminiscing until the Shadow came and collected Wendy. She saw Peter on her way out, and glared as much as she could against his blank expression. The moment she stepped foot into her room, however, she broke down and cried herself to sleep by the open windowpane. When she woke up, bleary-eyed and nauseous, a tall figure stood in the doorway watching her. It startled her with a jolt, but she calmed, recognizing her father.

"What have you been doing, Wendy?" he asked mildly. She swallowed and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

"I was reading by the window and must have fallen asleep," she lied. He raised a brow, making her nervous.

"I think it was a great deal more than that," he said. After a long moment of silence, he waved a hand, revealing dark marks that suddenly glowed in a red hue on Wendy's clothing.

"You have the marks of a shadow on you," he observed. "The question is _whose_ shadow."

Her eyes widened, but she stayed silent out of fear.

_How could he know? _she thought. _I know he's heard the legends surrounding Pan, but…there's still so much he hasn't taught me._

She was shocked again, however, when instead of interrogating her further, or demanding answers, Garen stepped forward and gently brought her into an embrace.

"You were taken by Pan's Shadow in the night, weren't you," he said softly. She nodded, burrowing her head into his chest for comfort. Wendy needed it.

"It's all right now, I'm here…and by a miracle, he returned you to me," he said. "How is that possible?"

Wendy struggled for a response that would sound plausible, mentally kicking herself for being put into this position in the first place. Regina's advice floated into her mind, but that would mean telling him about John and Michael. She couldn't do that to him without having a way to get back to them.

"H-He…he didn't…want a girl on his island," she said at last. "He said I would be too much trouble."

Garen scoffed, but picked up his daughter bridal style and placed her on her bed, tucking the sheets over her as if she was still a child.

"Rest now, it's over," he said, and went over to close her window. "I must go into town today, but I will be back in a couple hours."

She nodded and closed her eyes. Though sleep hardly seemed possible to reach again, it soon claimed her.

* * *

When she woke again, it was still morning. Nearly ten, though, and Wendy forced herself to rise. After washing and changing clothes, she went down into the kitchen to make herself breakfast. It was cold by the time she got around to touching it. Watching the mass sit on her plate, she realized that she didn't care much to eat.

The sound of wagon wheels sloping over dirt caught her attention, and she went to the window in the kitchen to investigate.

_It's the Queen's carriage_, she realized. A figure stepped out, this time dressed in a flowing wine colored gown that fitted closely to her form. She seemed to glide across the road, barely touching the dirt underfoot, and Wendy ran to the front door and opened it.

"I'm so sorry, I had almost forgotten," Wendy apologized profusely as she let Regina in. Her guards stayed outside. "I had a…trying night. I'll go find the book."

"I'll help you," Regina offered. "It's the least I can do for the help you'll be giving me."

"His study is just upstairs," Wendy said, leading them up to the second floor of the house. "It's where he keeps his most special collection."

It took Wendy only a few minutes to find the book they sought, half-buried by papers and odd trinkets used for spells upon Garen's desk. A prick of guilt hit her as she realized this was technically stealing from her own father.

_But if it can save the kingdom, then shouldn't I do what I can to help? _

"Here it is!" she said, and plucked it carefully from underneath. The moment she deposited the tome into Regina's waiting hands, however, a familiar form entered the doorway.

"I told you that spell would be of no use to you," Garen warned her. Regina's countenance changed all at once from the amicable queen Wendy knew, and her smirk grew wicked.

"Out with it then, Pagemaster," she said, and flicked a hand upward. Wendy shrieked as she was lifted into the air. Her face creased in pain when an iron grip began to squeeze her body. Garen looked at Wendy in worry before turning a furious glare on Regina.

"The entrapment can only be made on someone bonded to you by blood," he explained. "A family relation."

The Queen's eyes widened marginally, annoyance set in her features. But then she grinned maliciously.

"How quaint." She dropped her hand, making Wendy fall to the floor with a cry. She landed behind the desk and groaned at the pain growing behind her skull, though she dully noted the rest receding from the rest of her body. She lay sprawled on the ground, too taxed to do much else.

Regina opened the book before letting it fall on the floor. Then she raised her hand over it.

"Don't do this, Regina!" Garen exclaimed, and sent a wave of restrictive magic her way. It was powerful, as Garen had both age and a more extensive knowledge on his side. But through the strength of her will and with all the precision she'd been taught, she managed to cut through it and quickly throw up a shield for herself when a gale of wide nearly swept her off her feet. The sheer force of it would have sent her tumbling through the window.

Garen switched tactics and clamped his hands together in front of him. When he spread them open again, a dark, cloudlike mist pooled from his palms and filled the room, drenching it in a thick darkness.

Regina's eyes widened as she reflexively took a step back and searched her surroundings for the sorcerer. With a hand, she pushed her magic outward with the sole command to _clear _the fog. She watched satisfied as the darkness dissipated, but moved quickly out of the way as a chord of lightening broke cleanly through her shield and nearly found its mark between her eyes.

Instead, it impaled the wall, creating a jagged crater where it landed, and then dissolved into oblivion.

Garen's expression was cold as power audibly buzzed in hands, but there was a wild fire in his eyes that promised steadfast determination. In this, Regina could relate. Neither would stop until either triumph or death.

It was really too bad for him.

She _always_ won.

Her mouth quirked up in a grin once more.

"Goodbye, Uncle," she said, and threw her arms out on either side. The book bathed the entire room in crisp violet as a swirling pool began to emerge from it. Papers and books flew from their shelves from the whirlwind created by the vortex, and Garen held obstinately to the doorframe as he felt its pull. He gritted his teeth in the strain, and was finally ripped out of his hold. His scream reverberated throughout the room, only dimming when the portal sucked him in, closing behind him without a trace of it ever having been there. Except for the destruction of the room in its wake.

Regina viewed her handiwork, and gazed at the girl lying unconscious behind the mahogany desk. She was beginning to stir.

"You'll probably be back to haunt my steps when I least expect it, cousin," she mused, and picked the tome up from the ground. She regarded it impassively before tossing it to the side. It would be of no future use, and the girl wouldn't be able to do anything with it either. All except morn for a father that would never be able to return to her.

"But not knowing makes it all the more interesting."

* * *

"By the time I woke, she was gone," Wendy finished. "And for the first time in my life, I was completely alone."

"What did you do?" the Dark One asked. He absently sipped at his morning tea. Her tale had gone into the night, until they paused for a few hours' sleep and continued over breakfast.

Wendy took a bite of buttered toast, a pensive look on her face.

"I went through every one of my father's books and learned as much as I could by myself with no one to explain them, but I did glean much," she said. "Once I thought I'd grown enough confidence in my own abilities, I hid the books in a pocket dimension Papa used for his own personal belongings…it was one of the last things he taught me before…before he was taken."

"And after?"

"After, I locked down my house the best I could, set wards on the locks, and aimed to find allies," she said. "I found those who were loyal to my father, or were indebted to him. I traded with people who I thought could be trustworthy—magical items, spells, the like—until I made enough friends to begin planning."

"For your revenge," Rumpelstiltskin finished.

"I prefer to call it _justice_," she corrected.

"Well, I'm afraid I can't accompany you on your siege upon the castle," he said, and stood from his chair. "The Queen knows she cannot best me magically, so we've resorted to a battle of wills—mind games, if you prefer."

She glared at the subtle jab and stood as well.

"I'm not asking you to come with me, but I do need something; a certain magical item before I can begin."

"Ah, after all this time, we finally get to it," he said with relish. "I must admit, you have piqued my interest."

She raised a brow.

"But what will be your cost?"

"I believe you have already paid in full," he said with a secretive smile. "Like I said, interesting stories are hard to come by."

* * *

"Well, if this is your version of a rescue party, we got here just in time," Regina remarked. She pushed a palm frond out of her path and waited for Rumpelstiltskin and Wendy to join her out of the jungle. Wendy stayed behind them all, and was forced to occasionally flick long leaves out of her line of vision as she was still partially in the confines of the foliage.

In the clearing were a myriad of people poised for action, weapons in hand. Most of them Wendy had never met before. Others, she unfortunately _had_. She had never been on good terms with Captain Hook since their first fateful meeting, but Tinkerbell, on the other hand, was a more recent annoyance that Wendy didn't think she would have to deal with again so soon.

"What are you two doing here?" said a young woman, who Wendy observed was of similar height to her, though she carried a bow and quiver as well as a suspicious gaze.

"Same as you, except we actually have a chance," Regina replied, and gestured to the box Rumpel held in his hands. "Pandora's Box; it can trap Pan for eternity simply by opening the lid."

Wendy's eyes grew wide in understanding. What they intended could actually work…if they got close enough to use it. Somehow this thought both appealed to her and terrified her, for reasons she hadn't the time nor the energy to think about.

"You didn't tell me your father was the Dark One," Tinkerbell whispered to the man next to her. He was young and held a sword, though he wore strange clothing, like most of those in their group. Wendy could only assume this man was Rumpelstiltskin's son.

"Yeah, but he's not getting anywhere near Henry," he said firmly.

"Bae," Rumpel said with a regretful shake of his head.

"Why? What are you talking about?" the woman next to him said. She was blonde, and from what Wendy could gather, confused and annoyed.

"There's a prophecy that says Henry will be his undoing. He didn't come here to save Henry, he came here to kill him," he said. Wendy looked at the Dark One in surprise. If that was truly his intention, it was contrary to the change she'd seen in his character.

It wasn't only his appearance that had changed since the last she saw him. It was his demeanor, the way he carried himself and spoke to her. There were deeper emotions, a sense of resignation and weight she hadn't seen when they first met.

"That's why you didn't want to find Neal before we got Henry back," Regina said, turning on her former mentor with angry, betrayed eyes. "Because you knew he'd spill your secret."

There was a subtle shift in the entire group on the defensive, but Rumpelstiltskin, for all his black crocodile skin clothing, looked as if he wanted nothing to do with what they accused him of.

"Everything I did, I did to _protect_ Henry, to rescue him from Pan," he said, attempting to convince not only Regina, but all of Henry's family who stood before him.

"It all makes sense, you left before we even made sure," said the blonde. From what she'd observed and from what Rumpelstiltskin had told her, Wendy could guess this was Henry's rightful mother, Emma, making Neal—or Bae, whatever he called himself—the boy's father. The dots were beginning to connect in her mind, though she hardly thought the petite brunette with the bow and the taller man beside her looked old enough to be grandparents, let alone the renowned Snow White and Prince Charming. That particular tidbit had made her head spin when Rumpel explained it.

Henry had an interesting family tree.

"You wanted to get to Henry first," Snow White said, stringing her bow with an arrow from her quiver.

"He would be on his own," Charming added.

"So no one could stop you," Hook said, but Rumpel only let out an exasperated breath.

"So you can kill him," Regina finished icily.

Emma informed him that he would have to go through all of them first, but Wendy could see Rumpel tried his best to assuage their fears by claiming not to care about the prophecy anymore.

"Because that sounds _just _like you," Regina remarked derisively.

"Without me you _will_ fail," he said factually. "I'm the most powerful amongst us."

"That's why we can't trust you," said Neal.

"If I could give you my dagger, I would, but I _can't_."

"But you can give me Pandora's Box," he suggested. "I don't have to trust you if I can stop you."

"Son…" The way he spoke the word held a regret that spoke volumes to Wendy, and she watched as he handed over the box to his son.

"Listen to me," said Neal. "If you so much as lift a hand to perform magic, you're going to spend an eternity in this box."

"That's a hefty threat," Wendy murmured before she could restrain herself. It was then that they all seemed to notice her standing behind Rumpelstiltskin.

"Who is that?" asked Emma. Captain Hook looked at Wendy in mild surprise, his customary raise of a brow making Wendy want to roll her eyes. She stepped from behind Rumpel and stood next to him. His explanation of his motives for coming to Neverland convinced her, and she felt safest at his side than anyone else's at the moment.

"…Nice to see you again," Hook said hesitantly. She smiled slightly mockingly, though she noted how Tinkerbell's eyes widened in shock.

_Didn't think I would still be alive, did you?_ Wendy thought.

"Always a pleasure," she replied dryly.

"You know her?" asked Snow.

"Yes, this is Wendy. Though it's been…a long time," he said, his expression falling.

"It has, though you don't look a day older," Wendy remarked.

"Magic does that." She scoffed.

"So I've gathered."

"But wait, I doubt Pan would let you stray too far from him. How did you bump into these two?" he asked, gesturing to Regina and the silent figure of Rumpelstiltskin, who raised a brow in response.

"They freed me and allowed me to tag along," she said, and glanced at the former fairy in distaste. Tinkerbell looked away from her.

"So your magic is restored then?" Hook asked.

"Yes…well, mostly," she replied, and summoned a ball of fire into her hands. She was concentrating on keeping it aflame, but her brows strained as it flickered and sparked. She tried to make it grow larger in her hand, but eventually she let the flames dissipate with a sigh.

"Those shackles I was imprisoned with were forged with the intention of completely hampering your concentration when trying to perform a spell. Its residue hasn't completely worn off," she said, and turned to Rumpel.

"You did a good job making them." He gave her a slight smile.

"I'm anything if not accurate."

"Wait, you made the restraints that rendered her from her magic?" asked Neal.

"They weren't originally made for me," Wendy clarified, sneaking a side glance at Regina. Her marred wrists burned at the thought of them.

_I've bore these scars of my own doing, but she will always be the cause._

"How exactly do you all know each other?" Charming asked, gesturing to the four that actually seemed to have a history with Wendy.

"Well, that could be a long explanation I would rather make sitting comfortably," said Wendy.

"We don't have the time," Emma said.

"Don't you need time to sit and plan out your plan of attack? Surely you're not just going to go barreling in there," said Wendy.

"Haven't you been listening?" snapped Regina. "We're going to use the cube."

"Ah, but what if you can't get close enough to use it? He could simply teleport himself if he finds himself in a situation where he could be compromised," said Wendy. "I could help you."

"Why would you risk your life to help us?" asked Snow White. Wendy smiled, but it didn't reach your eyes.

"To make sure my brothers remained safe, I would do anything."

* * *

Meeting Henry's family only further strengthened her resolve to help them the best she could. As they sat around a fire, eating roast venison as their dinner (courtesy of Snow White), she shared that she'd been tricked by Pan into thinking he was kind. But she soon realized that he'd hidden the fact that her brothers were not dead, as she'd thought. Wendy explained her relation to Regina, to the older woman's chagrin.

"But how did you end up in Neverland?" asked Neal. Wendy looked over at Rumpelstiltskin.

"Well, that is a story that begins in your castle, does it not?" she asked.

"I believe so, yes, if you want to get technical," he replied. Wendy sighed.

_It was the day I almost won._

* * *

"It was hard work, but I managed to acquire the right amount of ingredients to cast a spell over these bonds," said the Dark One, who presented them to Wendy with a flourish.

"They will render any magic-wielder useless, but keep in mind, they are made to imprison only the kind of magic that is used by the Queen," he said. "Any other kind would have taken much more time than necessary."

"There are different kinds?" asked Wendy, though she held the fetters with care as she dismissed them into a pocket dimension, where she could easily retrieve them later.

"Why yes, of course. Rest assured that these will detain her, and only someone who uses magic can take them off," he said.

"Any kind of magic can remove them?" she asked.

"Well, yes. Magic is magic, dearie," he quipped.

"But you just—"

"Never mind that! You have work to do, am I correct?" She sighed in defeat, but she smiled knowingly. This man would forever be an enigma to her.

"Yes, I'll take my leave then." Before she left, however, she glanced back at him. He looked up at her with a curious expression, and she smiled.

"Thank you."

He hesitated, then curtly nodded.

"Take no second for granted," he said. "You'll have only one chance to use the entrapment."

Wendy smiled, and disappeared from the castle. It would be the last he saw of her for nearly forty years.

* * *

Getting into the castle had been a more taxing effort than she'd envisioned, but with enough help from her allies, and the concealment and silencing spells the Dark One had given her, she'd slipped through the servant's gate dressed as a maid. A man followed close behind her in a long cloak, carrying a basket of eggs for her until she reached the door.

"This is where we part ways, my lady," he whispered. She turned and took the basket from him.

"Thank you, my friend. Go to Marian…I will never ask anything of you again," she said.

"Good luck," he said gravely. Their eyes met, carrying the weight of their parting. Odds were, it was to be their last. He pulled his bow from underneath his cloak and traveled back into the forest that looked black and foreboding in the darkness of night. She knew her troubles would be far worse inside the castle, but she opened the door and closed it carefully behind her. The silencing spell she placed upon herself cushioned her journey up the steps into one of the five towers that made up Regina's palace.

This was the servant's wing, and she left the basket of eggs in one of the kitchens. In another ten minutes (and with an invisibility spell), she'd made it from the eastern tower to the western tower, just after the central part of the palace where all the great halls were. The west housed the royal chambers, where Regina was sure to be asleep.

The guards were blissfully unaware of her as she walked through the empty halls. Most of them seemed to be sleeping on the job. She didn't envy them if Regina caught wind of their inactivity. But if all went according to plan, this kingdom would be free of her tyranny. Though she knew that if she failed, she would most likely die. She had nothing left to lose.

Desperation had pushed her to her limits, it called for vengeance.

_There is no greater treason, but at least I had the courage to do what I couldn't as a child_, she thought. _Perhaps, this night, I'll get my father back._

Once she was sure that she was standing in front of the correct door, she closed her eyes in concentration. In her mind she pictured a bedroom. When Wendy opened her eyes, she was on the other side of the door. The room was large and lavish, the most finery she'd ever seen in her life. Hand-carved furniture and painted walls, and completing the picture was the bed that took up a good section of the room.

It was empty.

Instead, curtains were pulled back, revealing open doors to a balcony. The Queen was there, staring out to the city below. Wendy walked up behind her and drew two objects from the pocket dimension into her hands. The book that she had preserved with the utmost care, the book that held the key to her father's freedom, she placed in a purse that hung around her neck and against her hip. The fetters she placed a silencing spell on before opening them.

"There are thousands of them down there, like ants," Regina said, startling Wendy. "All of them, no matter how subconsciously, bent to my will simply because I am the queen. Sometimes, a part of me wonders if things could have ended differently. You, seeing your simple life in that little village, it made wonder again."

"At what you'd lost as a child?" Wendy asked, knowing now that her cover was blown. But she could still play the game.

"At the life thrust upon me," she corrected sharply, and turned to face her. Even without her flowing gowns and makeup and jewels, she was still as intimidating as Wendy remembered. There was something different Wendy saw in her eyes, however. Something heavy and resigned, yet no less cruel.

"It appears I must finish what I started," she said, and with a wave of a hand, the fetters were ripped out of the girl's grasp.

Wendy acted fast, throwing up a shield barrier for herself while tossing a firm locking spell on the doors. The guards banged on the other side, but they wouldn't be able to get in. She enchanted the curtains, making them act in her will by wrapping around Regina, though she struggled and strained against the hold. Wendy called the shackles back to her and threw down the shield. She could already feel its pull at her own magic, so she carefully opened them once more.

"Do you remember this?" Wendy asked, pulling the book out partially from her knapsack. "It's where you banished my father. I'm glad you remember me, cousin. All the better when I send you to the hell you sent him to…and bring him back to me."

"I would expect nothing less. It seems you've learned a lot since the last I saw you," Regina said coolly, then leaned forward to whisper, "but it wasn't enough."

Forcefully, she broke from the bonds of the curtains and held onto Wendy's throat with the firm, but invisible grip her hand cast. With her other hand, she controlled the movement of Wendy's arms to raise to eye-level, where Regina could slip the shackles onto thin wrists. Wendy gasped as she felt her spells retract at once. All of her magic was sucked into the enchanted iron. The whiplash effect of it sent a jolt up her entire body and made her fall to the floor once Regina released her hold on the girl's throat.

"Did you really think you could come here and slay me while I slept? You alone? A pathetic child, crying in the night for a father that would never return?" she said contemptuously, and summoned the book from Wendy's purse.

_I didn't want anyone to suffer my failure but me_, Wendy thought. _I thought I was strong enough. _

"I should destroy this, or better yet, cast you with your father…" Wendy looked up in defeat at the Queen's calculating gaze.

"No…the better punishment would be an eternity apart…I think I have just the place for you," she said with a smirk.

* * *

"That was how I found myself in a cellar of the Queen's prison chamber," Wendy continued. Regina had long since gone to find more firewood, and Wendy selfishly hoped it was out of guilt. "For three weeks I was there, fed only enough to keep me alive, and given enough water to sustain me until the next day. Regina was the only one who was so kind as to visit me besides the guards that brought my occasional meals."

But the nature of those visits, Wendy would remember and keep only to herself. Some things were best kept between family.

"_So this is what the Pagemaster's legacy has been reduced to. All those ancient secrets, gone to waste," Regina surmised. Wendy blinked up at her._

"_You and I know better than that…you must have hidden his treasures somewhere," she continued. "You have a lot of potential. It would be a shame if you wasted away in a cell while it could be put to use."_

"…_What do you want?" Wendy said tiredly. She had no energy for mind games anymore than she did to lift her head._

"_Tell me where you hid his possessions, and I will let you out of this cell," Regina offered. "As you are, you're good at slipping about the shadows, but lack the force to be reckoned with. I can give you power, and the training to refine your skills."_

"_In exchange…for _what?_" asked Wendy, shifting on her side even as it pained her._

"_Besides food, water, and better living conditions? The same as you've been doing: using that talent of disappearing to _my_ advantage. Of reading ancient spells and acquiring them for me."_

_Wendy gave her a disgusted look._

"_Do it yourself." Regina touched her chin thoughtfully and began a slow pace across the stone floor._

"_You see, I would, but I have a schedule to keep and bigger things to accomplish…much bigger things," she said, then turned back to her prisoner. "Work for me, and I can stay on schedule."_

_Wendy regarded the woman silently. Breath was hard to find with the knife-like pain shooting through her arms from the enchantment and her head and stomach from lack of sustenance. She could do with a loaf of bread and something to drink, just enough for her to _focus_._

"_On top of a slave, you want everything my father fought for and lived to protect," she said quietly. Regina's raised a shoulder in a half-shrug and raised her brows expectantly._

"_The pay will be good." _

_Wendy leaned forward, getting as close as she could with the chains on her arms and ankles, and stared deeply into her cousin's dark brown eyes._

"_Fuck you." _

"_Oh really? What else do you actually have to lose, Wendy," Regina asked, undeterred. "Your friends have abandoned you. Your father is, for all terms and purposes, _dead_, and the only one you've ever loved won't even leave that godforsaken island long enough to rescue you."_

_The mention of _him _roused some fire into her eyes. Regret and anger gave her energy enough to make her want to fight her chains._

"_Oh, I've seemed to hit a nerve. I'm ever so sorry eternity with a demon never would have worked," she taunted. "As if he could have loved you."_

"_It doesn't matter," Wendy murmured, despite her better judgment. The Queen quickly picked up on it._

"_What?" _

_Realizing her error, Wendy stayed silent. Regina sighed and, flicking a hand upward, raised the girl by her shackled arms, eliciting a sharp cry of pain and surprise._

"_What doesn't matter?" she repeated, before dropping Wendy onto the hard floor. Wendy cried out again at the contact, gasping for breath._

"_It was never real," Wendy wheezed. Tears sprung to her eyes involuntarily at the aching of her body and the wounds memory ripped open. "He never cared…it was always just a game…always just a dream…"_

"_He took you to Neverland, didn't he?" she asked. Wendy nodded despite how her rational brain screamed at her to remain silent._

"_Why would he allow you to return here?"_

_Clarity came back to her full force at the question as fear rooted her to reality. This was the one thing she couldn't allow the Queen to know. It would be the end of her._

_The word "forever" was branded in her thoughts._

"_He…didn't want me anymore," Wendy lied, using her pain and lack of energy to aid in believability._

"…_Interesting."_

* * *

Being held in the Queen's dungeons had been torturous, though in a turn of events, they began feeding her more often. This small grace on the Queen's part allowed her to somewhat build up her strength, even as she tried in vain to figure out the motivation behind it. Shouldn't she want to keep Wendy as weak as possible?

Though nowhere near healthy enough, she would have preferred it to what the Queen had in mind for her next. This is where she carried on in the tale for her audience, who by now seemed to be genuinely interested.

On the morning marking the twenty-second day of her imprisonment, guards roughly pulled her out of her cell and walked her outside the castle. They wouldn't answer her demands to tell her where they were taking her, no matter how much she struggled. Eventually, they came to the side of the castle closest to the ocean port, where the Queen waited on the deck.

"Why am I here?" Wendy spat. Regina raised a brow.

"You are being transported to see an old friend of yours. I've commissioned the captain of a ship to take you off my hands," she said, and gestured with a hand to a man who came to stand next to her. In one glance, Wendy knew exactly what he was.

The leather and boots left nothing to the imagination. Neither did the hook where the man's left hand should have been.

"_This_ is the dangerous criminal you told me about?" he asked Regina dubiously.

"_Pirates_, really?" Wendy asked. "Where could they possibly be taking me?"

"This is Captain Killian Jones, now well known as Captain _Hook_. He will be taking you aboard his ship," she said, and paused before smiling callously. "To Neverland."

The captain eyed her passively. Wendy's eyes widened in fear. Suddenly the purpose behind the proper meals made sense. As she had been, she might not have survived the journey.

"You can't do this. You don't understand," she pleaded. "I'll rot in your prison until I die, I don't care. Just please, don't—"

"Take her aboard," Regina said dismissively.

"No, _no! Please!_" Wendy screamed at the Queen's retreating form. "_Regina!_"

She never faltered in her steps, leaving her guards to drag Wendy onto the ship, kicking and screaming to be let go.

* * *

**Well, now we finally see how things fell out between Wendy and Regina, and how she and Hook met! Sort of. Not to worry, we'll get into more of that in the next chapter. Speaking of which, here's a preview!**

"_Welcome aboard the Jolly Roger, lass," Hook said, gaining her attention before he called to his first mate to set sail. "It's going to be one hell of a ride."_

_Hook took a bean from his pocket and threw it several yards in front of the ship. It took only a moment for it to open a portal, large and green and swirling; a portal that enveloped the ship in kaleidoscope colors and a flash of white, and then bluer skies not marred by clouds. The cerulean waters reflected the sun in silver, and brought the salty wind to caress his face. It calmed him, though he knew their destination was anything but calm._


	8. Stormy Seas

**So, I'm debating what direction to go as far as following the canon at the end of "Think Lovely Thoughts." Not as far as the whole plot twist between Pan and Rumpel, though while I saw it coming, I'm not sure how I feel about it personally. I don't want to give my plans away, so I'll simply say you'll see how I make my changes here and there for that particular part of the storyline.**

* * *

_~Isle of Thorns~_

Chapter Eight – Stormy Seas (and roiling shores)

Hook remembered her well, and he didn't blame her for her distaste where he was concerned.

The Queen had said she was dangerous—too dangerous to be kept in her kingdom. She would rather the girl be shipped off where the Queen wouldn't have to waste her time with her. So she recruited him.

"_I don't run a ferry service," he said wryly. "Nor are you my employer. I'm only here on business for him."_

_It didn't matter that her men had surrounded him outside his ship at the docks. It didn't matter that they'd ushered him into her throne room despite their rather vocal demands to be let go, or to be told what was going on. It didn't matter that he knew she was powerful and used to getting her way. It didn't matter because she wouldn't get him to do anything he didn't want to do. He valued his life above all else, and that meant he feared Pan more._

"_Yes, well, I'm sending him a gift that I'm sure will be useful to you," she said with a sly grin. He regarded her suspiciously._

"_What do you mean?"_

"_I mean, dear Captain, aren't you tired of being Pan's delivery service?"_

* * *

He watched as the palace guards threw her onto his ship like an old package of rotten produce—rough. A brief once-over her pale form and he could see the dark bruises that already peppered her arms. Her dress, dirty and in tatters, perhaps had once been well-made. Now it was as faded green as the life in her eyes that read _defeat_. She partially sat up and supported herself on the wooden planks with shaky arms still chained together by thick cuffs. She tilted her head downward to stare at the floor, letting the disheveled mess that was her hair fall forward.

Something akin to pity made him pause, then sigh.

"Welcome aboard the _Jolly Roger_, lass," Hook said, gaining her attention before he called to his first mate to set sail. "It's going to be one hell of a ride."

Hook took a bean from his pocket and threw it several yards in front of the ship. It took only a moment for it to open a portal, large and green and swirling; a portal that enveloped the ship in kaleidoscope colors and a flash of white, and then bluer skies not marred by clouds. The cerulean waters reflected the sun in silver, and brought the salty wind to caress his face. It calmed him, though he knew their destination was anything but calm.

He reached down and offered the girl his hand, and she took it warily.

"It is my pleasure to welcome you aboard. I am Captain Hook, as you can see," he said with a flourish of a bow, and a small gesture with his silver hook that brought a slight smile from the girl.

"Why are you welcoming me if I'm supposed to be a prisoner on this ship, Captain?" she asked tiredly.

"You don't seem to be as deadly as the Queen fears," he said, walking away from her to travel about halfway up the stairs leading to the quarterdeck. "And it's not becoming to be rude to a pretty face, even if it's covered in grime."

She grimaced.

"Well, three weeks in captivity will do that to you," she replied, and took a few steps to follow him.

"A week at sea will also," he pointed out with a grin. "So you'll fit right in for the time being. What did you say your name was?"

"I don't believe I gave you my name," she said with a small smile.

"Well, then it seems you have me at a disadvantage, for I've obliged you with my own without you even having to ask it."

She sighed, but gave him an amused look.

"Wendy," she said. He looked up thoughtfully.

_Wendy. It fits._

"Well, _Wendy_," he said, testing the name on his tongue. He traveled up the rest of the stairs and wordlessly took control of the wheel from his first mate, even as he continued his conversation with the girl trying to keep up with his quick movements.

"A question remains," he began. "Why did the Queen deem you so utter contemptible that she would send you to hell on earth, just so she wouldn't have to deal with you? At a hefty price, I might add."

"Well, if you deem such a place, 'hell on earth,' why would you go there?" Wendy countered. "Surely the price isn't worth your life."

"It's not," he agreed. "Which is why I didn't do it for the money, though it was an added bonus."

"I'll answer your question if you answer mine," she offered, and leaned against the railing close to the wheel. He suspected it was out of exhaustion and weakness more than anything.

"Well, if we are to talk, then we should be comfortable."

He led her below decks where several cots were made up with thin sheets. It wasn't luxurious, but it was life at sea. He stopped at a crate upon the floor and opened it. Inside was a large parcel held closed with string. He opened it and held it before her. To her shock, inside there was bread and cheese.

She looked up at him questioningly, to which he nodded and shook the parcel a little. She took the hint and grabbed what she could from it, tearing into the bread at once as she pushed her dignity aside for a few minutes. He graciously didn't comment, letting her eat as much as her stomach would allow, until she finished and seemed to realize how she must have appeared.

"Please, sit," he offered, and gestured to the beds behind her.

She sat on one of them, this time a little more cordially, letting her hands fall in her lap. The movement drew his eyes to her shackles. If he stared too hard, he would almost think they glowed a faint purple.

"They're enchanted," Wendy said in answer to his unspoken question. "They bind my powers from me, though they can only be removed by someone who possesses magic."

"Ah, I suppose that explains Regina's hastiness in getting rid of you," he said, slowly nodding. She looked down to the ground.

"Not entirely. Well, I tried to assassinate her," she said. Hook's eyes widened, though he bit back a knee-jerk reply. "She…she tricked me, and killed my father."

_Well, that's more understandable_, he thought, and let the pause lengthen in his search for an appropriate reply.

"I'm sorry," was all he could think to say. She shook her head.

"It doesn't matter now," she sighed. "I failed…I _failed_ him, and now I'll get what I deserve."

"Which is?" Wendy smiled bitterly.

"She's sending me back to Neverland to face my fears," she said. "She hopes he'll either kill me or torture me for an eternity."

"Wait, you've been to Neverland before?" he asked incredulously. Those who came rarely _left_ of their own accord.

She nodded, though her gaze never left the ground. His eyes lit up in realization. It was as Regina had implied.

"_What are you saying, then? She knows Peter Pan?" _

_The Queen smiled._

"You and Pan have a history."

She hesitated and looked up at him, as if wondering if she could trust him, or if she could even say the words.

"I was…young and so very naïve…it seems I've been a terrible judge of character," she whispered coarsely. He let the weight of her words sink in before he asked yet another question.

"How did you escape the first time?"

"He let me go," she replied, and her gaze grew vacant. "He knew someday I would return. I just didn't believe him—didn't _want_ to believe him."

"I see," Hook said, and then stood. Before he could get very far, Wendy halted him with, "I believe we had a deal. I told you my story..."

He nodded at the reminder of what he had yet to share.

"All in due time, love," he said with a wink. But there was a weight settling in his stomach at the thought of what would happen when they landed. It was a something he hadn't felt in quite a long time, since the start of his career in "delivery service," as the Queen had so eloquently put.

"Well, over in the corner is a bucket with fresh water and a rag. You can try and wash yourself up a bit, if you'd like," he continued. "If not, feel free to nap on that cot you're sitting on, or explore the ship without getting in my crew's way."

"Why are you being kind to me?" she asked quietly, but with a bluntness that .

"Why does it surprise you," he countered with a cocked brow. The corner of her mouth quirked upward.

"I'm a prisoner aboard a pirate ship."

"You are a lady aboard _my _ship," he corrected. "If you are to be on it but once, I'll have it said my ship was hospitable to anyone willing to cross the Queen and live to tell about it."

* * *

He knew it was only part of the story, and Wendy skipped over most of their conversation for the sake of time while they ate and listened to her speak. She had a voice for storytelling, even if it didn't paint him in the best light. He didn't envy Regina though.

Every now and then the others would glance at her in disgust or incredulity, and she would carefully avoid their stares. Somehow that gave him a sinking feeling in his stomach.

_What goes around comes around_, he thought. Acting like a bitch tends to bite you in the ass.

* * *

"Land, ho!"

From her vantage point at the edge of the main deck, she could see the shore and dense forest from the ship. It both excited her and sent a pang of fear coursing through her veins. She knew what awaited her, and the welcome wouldn't be warm.

_He might let me see John and Michael._

That thought was enough to give her the slightest hope that maybe her chance at happiness, if for a brief moment, was not lost. It was enough to bring the sting of tears in her eyes of at last seeing her family again. She sniffed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand the best she could while being bound. Now that her face, neck, and hands were relatively clean, she could enjoy the coolness that fresh air brought against her skin.

Wendy fully expected Peter Pan to keep her as his prisoner. He would never trust her now that she _knew_ his true nature. He would remember her vow of never returning.

_It's as if I never left._

But she knew that was a lie. So much had happened. So much had changed and matured her. Or at least she liked to think she had matured. Physically, she was a little taller, more haggard thanks to her near month in captivity. Losing her father had sent her down a jagged path of vengeance. Though she'd found companionship in very few who she would always remember, that path had hardened her, steeled her resolve and made her bitter toward the childhood innocence that had once made her shy away from the deplorable nature of people.

That idealistic fantasy that people were inherently good, and could be changed.

* * *

"That's not altogether true, Wendy," Snow White interrupted. "Though I understand where you're coming from."

Wendy regarded the woman tiredly.

"Really? Perhaps you do understand," she began. She knew the long and sad tragedy of Snow White's fall from grace with Regina's trademark way of meddling, but even now she had a husband and a daughter and a grandson to love and be loved by, and to fight for.

_What the hell do _I_ have?_

"But most people aren't like you, Snow White. I learned about reality the hard way."

She was a fool. As a child, she'd been too naïve to see past the facades of those she trusted and even cared for. Crawling out of the ashes of her failure, without Garen's guidance she only made a worse mess of her life. In her attempt to decide her own fate she'd been presumptuous, grown prideful in her own meager abilities. When it came down to it, Wendy didn't have the art of cruelty nor the sheer force of will mastered well enough to trade her cousin's life for her father's. She wasn't strong enough.

And she certainly didn't learn.

* * *

By the time the ship slid to a stop upon coarse sand, Wendy was much paler than when their voyage started. It had only taken a few hours, but her stomach felt like it had been tied in a knot. The anxiety that had been welling inside her didn't help. It constricted her throat as she gripped her stomach, and Hook gave her a knowing look as he came to stand beside her.

"First time on a ship, I gather," he said. Her steady groan was reply enough.

"It's all right, lass, we're landed now. Shouldn't be too long before the welcoming committee comes to greet us."

She gave him a side glance.

"I can't _wait_," she said, not bothering to reign in her sarcasm.

"Whatever happens, I wish you luck."

"You never answered my question from before," she pointed out. "Why is it that you're here?"

Captain Killian Jones, or Hook, whatever it was he preferred, was both everything and nothing like what she would have expected a pirate to be. Confident, roughish, perhaps flirtatious, but at the same time surprisingly honorable for someone supposedly outside of the law.

Though there was something behind his eyes that made Wendy wary of the man's agenda. If the Queen's money and sure threat of intimidation wasn't motivation enough to do her bidding, then what was?

He paused, and she looked at him expectantly.

"You could say I'm in a similar situation as yourself," the captain said reluctantly. "I can only apologize." Her eyes lit up in curiosity.

"For what—" she began, but was cut off by the sounds of shouts and whoops and hollers. Her trepidation returned full force as several Lost Boys made their way onto the ship. Hook pushed her back behind him as they seemed to flood onto the main deck.

Somehow the boys had seemed more innocent the last time she saw them among the camp; sitting by the fire eating and laughing with each other, children sleeping peacefully in their beds with the covers drawn near their gently snoring faces. Now they seemed like half-starved animals just waiting for a pirate to look at them the wrong way.

Their frenzied noise died down as a tall, hooded boy stepped forward onto the main deck. The thin, pale and scarred face, though somewhat shaded, was unforgettable. Neither was the club resting on his shoulder any less intimidating than it had been in Wendy's youth.

_Or at least it would be if I wasn't virtually powerless_, she thought sourly. Just the thought of the cuffs on her wrists made the stinging feeling return to the forefront of her mind. Usually she was able to push the dull ache aside if she didn't concentrate on it, but she was sure to have scars from the bloody things if she was ever able to get them off.

_If there is one thing the Dark One can be called, it's efficient_, she thought. Not to mention she was nowhere near proper health.

"You're late," said Felix. The Captain addressed him coolly.

"The Queen required my services, and I wasn't in a position to decline. I have what Pan requested: the usual metals and supplies…no word of the _other_ request, but would like a word with him."

"He's busy," Felix said shortly.

"Well, then I believe we're at an impasse," said Hook. "I have business to make with Pan, and he'll not receive the gift the Queen so graciously sent him until I speak with him."

This made Wendy pause as she realized exactly what Hook was doing here.

_He works for Peter Pan. _

All at once she felt the full force of her stupidity.

"And what gift would _that_ be?"

That voice, boyish and velvet, pleasing to the ear and playful as it was cunning; she knew it, had heard it in her sleep, and now it came from above them. She continued looking down, letting her hair obscure her vision and keep her hid, even as the captain's shadow covered her.

"One I believe you may desire," he said smoothly. "For a price."

Peter Pan floated down to their level, stepping gracefully onto the deck and eyeing what must have appeared to him as a filth-covered, unknown figure in tattered clothing. Wendy couldn't know for sure until her would-be protector stepped carefully behind her, placing his hand and hook on her shoulders. She looked up, and the moment green met azure blue, reality paused. Shock was the first thing that seemed to register onto his face, until it was quickly replaced by a triumphant grin.

Her heart sank into the pit of her stomach like a rock.

The Lost Boys and the crew were silent in view of the exchange, most of them watching for Pan's reaction to the unknown girl who had appeared to capture his attention.

"Name your so-called price," he said, but his eyes never left hers. She was pinned where she stood by both his gaze and Hook's hold.

"Another bean, but for the use of my own leisure," Hook replied. This managed to attract Pan's attention long enough to shift his gaze over to the captain, allowing Wendy to release the breath she was holding.

"And what leisure would that be? Your petty revenge against the Dark One?" he mused with a roll of his eyes.

"Something like that."

"And why would I grant your request?"

Hook smirked mirthlessly and grabbed Wendy in a chokehold. Not tight enough to actually hurt her, but tight enough that she was wide-eyed and considerably uncomfortable. Mostly because the tip of his hook was touching one end of her neck. From the feel of it, it was _sharp_. With one jerk of movement, he could very well end her life. She wondered absently why he would choose his hook rather than the cutlass strapped to his waist.

_This is probably more intimidating…and more messy if he actually decides to kill me._

"Well, I could always send her back. The Queen wants her dead anyway, and could pay a hefty sum to have the deed done," he said, and his breath tickled her right ear. Pan's playful grin of before had vanished, leaving behind what she remembered of her last visit to the island: cold and calculating.

"Now why would she want her dead, I wonder," said Pan. His voice held the color of amusement, though his face did not.

"I thought you were honorable," Wendy whispered so that only he could hear. She couldn't see his expression, but she was curious as to what his expression was.

"I can only give you my sincerest apology," he murmured. "It's not my intention to do you harm."

Contrary to what he was now threatening.

"I suppose I could expect nothing less," she hissed, "from a _pirate_."

His hold tightened only a fraction, but she felt his slight tension.

"She is a criminal charged with high treason against the crown, and was held imprisoned in her Majesty's dungeons until she found the solution of banishment to be more fitting," Hook said aloud. "Unless, of course, you refuse to keep the girl here. I would be forced to bring her back, where she will be publicly hanged in the gallows. Set the example, you know."

All the while, Pan's face remained impassive, but something stirred behind his eyes that Wendy couldn't read. It made her extremely nervous, especially as most of the captain's words were lies. The Queen would never kill her unless she grew tired of mocking her. But she had no idea how Pan would react if he realized Hook was bluffing. Or perhaps Regina really _had _told him those things. Either way, Wendy's position was a bad one.

"I see," said Pan. It felt as if the entire ship was holding its breath for him to decide what it was he wanted to do, and it was beginning to drive Wendy insane.

"Do we have a deal, or not?" Hook pressed. After a few more moments of silence, Pan's posture relaxed as a lazy smirk slid across his face.

"Oh, I suppose. If you're _that_ keen on a holiday."

_A vacation implies an intention to come back, _Wendy couldn't help but think. But she watched as Pan pulled a white, nearly transparent bean out of a small satchel attached to his waist. He tossed it underhanded to Hook, who quickly removed his hand from around Wendy's waist to catch it. After pocketing it, he released her and gently pushed her toward Pan. She stopped halfway between them, knowing she didn't want to venture too close to the boy, while at the same time not trusting Hook. It was a precarious position she found herself in, and she didn't think it would be getting any better.

"Then we have an accord," said the captain. Pan's smirk sharpened.

"Nearly," he said, and addressed his second in command. "Make sure to retrieve the supplies before his crew sets sail."

With Felix's nod and gesture to the others, Pan returned his attention to Wendy. His eyes captured her fear-ridden gaze, and in a flash, he appeared behind her. With her startled gasp, he took advantage of her surprise to grab hold of her shoulders, and before she could call out to Hook for help, the two vanished.

* * *

"From then on, I was his prisoner," Wendy finished with a sigh. Though she did take amusement from the almost scolding look Emma occasionally threw Hook's way. He avoided her gaze with a tired expression etched on his face. It was the look of someone who had lived long, and regretted much.

"But now you're free," said Snow White. "You could come with us."

"Forgive me if I seem pessimistic, but I'm still a prisoner," said Wendy. "And while I think we may have a chance at saving Henry…I don't think I'll be leaving with you."

"What do you mean?" asked Charming. Her gaze traveled to the fire just as Regina returned to the camp and set down the wood beside the pit. All eyes turned to her, making her stop. She was unsure for a moment, until realization hit her.

"She told you, didn't she?" she asked in a deadpan.

"You don't have the best track record with _anyone_, do you?" Neal observed. Wendy regarded her closely, not believing her eyes.

_Does she actually feel _guilt?

"I've done things I'm not proud of, we've been over this," she said, and glanced over at Wendy. Their eyes met, and it melted something cold within Wendy, alerted her to the stray thought that perhaps Regina _had _changed, if not a little.

"For everything?" Wendy offered. She didn't have to specify, because Regina knew more than anyone what had happened for them to hate each other. Regina was silent for a few moments, but there was conviction, and a certain…warmth there that the younger woman had never seen before.

"Yes."

It wasn't exactly an apology, but for now, it was enough. Wendy nodded and looked back down at her hands. Emma took the opportunity to stand.

"Well, if we're going to get Henry, we need a plan," she said. And for the next two hours, they discussed exactly that, until long after the fire had gone out and the moon grew high enough in the sky that even Regina called it time for much needed sleep.

For half an hour, Wendy tried her best to relax upon the grass. She shifted on her right side, to the left, onto her back, and on the right side again. She daydreamed of days when she would wake up to the smell of fresh bread in the morning, and help her mother cook, and read her brothers bedtime stories, and share silent meals with her father. Eventually, she even allowed herself to daydream of _before_, when her dreams were full of laughter and innocent games, and midnight chases through the flower fields, until reality would crash down like a weight on top of her and she was forced to push those thoughts aside.

No matter how bone-deep her exhaustion, her eyelids remained open, her mind still racing no matter how calm her heartbeat. She sighed as quietly as possible and slowly sat up, mindful to make only the slightest of sounds as she stood. The blades of grass below were already bent in her shape.

Carefully she stepped away from the makeshift camp, just for a short walk around before she attempted sleep once more. Walking on her own gave her time and peace to think in silence without the interruption of other voices and distractions. The only problem with walking alone was that it was an invitation to be interrupted.

A hand shot out from the darkness and covered her mouth, and the rest of the arm curled around her form until her back made contact with a solid chest. She would have screamed, but a familiar voice shushed her gently in a manner that made a shiver curl down her spine.

"I just want to talk," he whispered in her ear. When she nodded in affirmation, he slowly removed his hand. She immediately turned and pushed away from him.

"_How dare you_," she hissed, though she made sure to keep her voice quiet. He raised an incredulous brow.

"It's only a conversation, you don't need to get riled," he patronized. She gritted her teeth.

"You stuff me in a cage and think it's all right to ambush me in the dark?"

"In all fairness, you were trying to break our agreement."

"If you had been paying attention, you would've realized I never actually agreed."

"I beg to differ. You accepted once you stepped onto the island's soil."

"It was supposed to be a trial test, and you ruined it for me by being yourself." He grasped his heart in mock agony.

"How you wound me, Wendy."

"I try," she spat. Mild surprise flicked into his eyes, perhaps at the vehemence in her tone. He paused then, regarding her silently for a few moments.

"I gave you everything I had. _Everything_. And apparently it wasn't enough," she said. "Every time you seem to genuinely care, you remind me of how you really are."

_And how I can never change you, no matter how hard I've tried._

"I put you in the cage partially out of anger…partially because I knew you would distract me," he confessed. She considered him with veiled interest.

"From what?" she asked blankly.

"My goal," he said shortly. It didn't seem as if he wanted to reveal more, but she would push until he pushed back. He wouldn't have come to her unless something was truly amiss, unless he needed her for something. Was her deception of Henry not enough?

It was then that she noticed the wariness to his features, how drawn he actually appeared. His eyes held a depth she only associated with when he allowed himself to actually process his emotions, when he wasn't blank and calculating.

"I was right to worry before, wasn't I?" she asked. "You never told me _why_ you need Henry to believe in you."

He smiled mirthlessly, and it tipped her off.

"As much as you claim to hate me, you still care," he observed. Wendy scowled.

"All the good it does me. You don't seem to," she said, but despite her better judgment, drew a few slow steps closer.

"But you still want me to," he pointed out. She didn't deny it, instead ignored his words in favor of pursing her lips in annoyance. She hated herself for still being concerned. He wanted her to care, that much she knew, though she didn't know if it was out of some sick sense of egotism or because, deep down, the least selfish parts of him wanted to care and be cared for.

"What is it you're not telling me this time?" she asked. "If it wasn't because I tried to escape the island, why would you purposely drive me away?"

These were the questions that haunted her thoughts while she tried in vain to sleep, the thoughts that found her in the day when her mind was unfocused on the task at hand. Briefly, there was a time when life on the island hadn't been so terrible. When she thought, for once, she could make the most of what life had dealt her, and maybe, just maybe…

"I thought…I thought we could be happy," she said, her voice fading, baring the depth of her confusion, and the hurt she thought she'd buried deep enough. The sense of betrayal that pierced her even now—of having everything ripped from her and being thrown away once again. All in one day.

"You were distracting me from what needed to be done…to ensure my survival," he said with a shake of his head. A cold breeze broke through the brush and trees, rustling leaves and branches. "My sense of self-preservation is rather hard to break."

"What do you mean?" she asked in a small voice, and hugged herself in an attempt to hide from the cold rush of air. The anger had left her, being replaced by pain and exhaustion. He stepped closer to her then, close enough that she was forced to crane her neck up to view the uncharacteristic weariness to his features. He gripped her shoulders almost hesitantly.

"I need the heart of the Truest Believer, _that_ much is true. In short, my magic that connects me to the island, what keeps me eternally young, is running out. I need his heart so that I can grow strong enough to break the spell…I'm dying, Wendy," he said. Her eyes were wide as his voice drifted through her conscious mind. It didn't comprehend what his words were saying, or simply refused to process.

"You couldn't have told me earlier?" she breathed. He didn't have to hide the truth, no matter how deeply it would affect her, and how much she didn't want to admit it.

"You didn't need to know," he said dismissively, and released his hold on her to create distance between them. She followed after him persistently and grabbed his arm.

"What about the Lost Boys? They're devoted to you, most of them love you. Don't they deserve to know?"

He slipped his arm out of her grasp and shook his head.

"The boys can't know," he refuted. "They _can't_ see me like this, or they'll lose faith in me too."

His expression and tone marked his frustration and weariness, and despite her better judgment, it made Wendy feel a pinprick of sympathy for him.

"And what about me?" Wendy asked sharply. She stepped closer to him, accusation in her eyes. He was close enough to touch if she just…

"When you let me trust you," she whispered, "I was there for you. Until you decided I was in the way of your plans."

She knew she sounded like a petulant child, but her reservations were quickly leaving her as she stood on the brink of desperation. He was confusing her, making her question her own feelings as well as her motivations; her rational mind told her that helping Rumpelstiltskin and Regina save Henry was the right thing to do. Meanwhile…

_He's here and he's hurting, and he's coming to me for…what exactly?_

Peter sighed and reached out with a hand, gently cupping her cheek. His thumb ran along her jawline, and even though she was _hurt_ and _angry_…she couldn't help but lean into his touch.

"I could always count on you, until…" he trailed, and his eyes hardened.

_Until I decided to strike a deal with the enemy._

"You drove me to it, Peter. You didn't have to send my brothers away," she countered.

"That was necessary," he replied bluntly. "I needed someone in that world to be my eyes and ears."

She pushed away from him once more, backing up so that there was adequate space between them.

"Come _on_," she scoffed in disbelief. "You couldn't have gotten Slightly, or Nibs, even _Curly_, for heaven's sake!"

He motioned for her to keep her voice down, but she only glared at him.

"Tell me why…_please_," she persisted. At his obstinate silent, she pleaded again, only to have him narrow his eyes in agitation and let out a noise of frustration.

"Whatever I do, it doesn't prevent you from distracting me," he said, so quietly Wendy strained to hear it. In the morning she would dissect what that actually meant.

"Why did you come here?" she asked at last. "To explain yourself? To justify your actions?"

"Of course not," he rebuffed impassively. For once, she didn't believe him.

She took another approach.

"Why is it that you need the boy's heart anyway? I suppose…yours is much too darkened to be of much use," she quipped. He gave her a derisive look.

"I never once claimed to be good."

"But you always have a choice," she said. "Being selfish won't bring you happiness. Just your life."

Peter stepped forward, and she held her ground even as he leaned in close, so close that their chests brushed and his breath fell on her cheeks.

All that time she had spent in a cage, Wendy had been convinced that any kind of happiness she could have had truly left her—that to him, she would always be something to play with. That he really was a monster. In most aspects, he was. But there was a glimmer of something she could see now behind his eyes, something she hadn't seen in such a very long time. It gave her hope that perhaps things could end differently, if only they could trust each other.

Perhaps there was still something left of a person not wholly childish, self-centered, and power-hungry.

"And what makes you think…I'm unhappy?"

"I can see it in your eyes," she breathed, and gently placed her hands against his chest. He was warm to the touch, the sensation pleasing under her cold fingertips. "Every time you push me away. Even though you know what I feel, what you _could _feel."

Wendy wanted to crush the hope fluttering about in her chest, because she knew it wouldn't last.

"It won't matter if I don't live to feel it," he replied, and disappeared before her eyes.

* * *

**Well, I'm trying to make these chapters longer. I think I'm sort of succeeding, but I'm realizing that Wendy seems to be quite the victim. I'll be adjusting that in future chapters, because what good is a character that doesn't make mistakes of their own?**

**Here's a clip of what's coming next:**

"_Well," he drawled. "It seems after all this time running away from me…you've finally returned." The sound of his voice nearly raised bile in her throat as she realized just how at his mercy she was. He had won. Now he would either kill her, or give her a fate worse than death._

_His steps against the wooden floor were audible, heavy only because he allowed them to be. Her limbs were as frozen as her gaze upon the ground. Only when his kneeling form came into view did she register his smooth fingers that tilted her chin up. His eyes were familiar, twinkling in satisfaction as they bore into hers, wide and wary._

"…_Albeit worse for wear," he continued. "It seems I can't turn my back on you for a short while without you getting into trouble."_


	9. Captor

**Well, these next few chapters will be telling the story of the more recent past within Neverland, since I felt one long chapter wouldn't do it justice. They will most likely be shorter chapters, but there will be more of them as I'm nearly on Christmas break. And on that note, on with the story!**

* * *

_~Isle of Thorns~_

"_But do not ask the price I paid  
For I must live with my quiet rage__  
__Tame the ghosts in my head  
That run wild and wish me dead__  
__Should you shake my ash to the wind__  
__Lord, forget all of my sins__  
__Or let me die where I lie  
Neath the curse of my lover's eyes."_

_Mumford and Sons, "Lovers Eyes"_

Chapter Nine – Captor (and the captive)

Wendy pushed forcefully away from him as soon as she could. The sudden force of it made her misstep, but her subsequent tumble to the floor granted her the distance she sought between them. A mere blink had brought them to what seemed to be an enclosed room with shelves of books and other knickknacks, and something akin to a couch near a wooden counter, which appeared to be hollowed out from the wall. A mahogany chair sat under it. With a turn of her head came a view of the far wall, completing the room with an arched doorway in the center. Peter Pan stood in front of it.

His amused look as he watched her did nothing for her nerves, and only served to remind her of who she could thank for putting her into this situation.

_And this is why pirates can't be trusted_, she thought. Apprehension was a living thing at the bottom of her stomach. She tried to muster enough morale to at least appear defiant, but she was sure she had only managed fearful and desperate. Despite the resigned speech she'd given Hook, her eyes flitted to all sides in search of any possible exit.

No such luck. There weren't even any windows, and the only door was blocked by her captor.

"Well," he drawled. "It seems after all this time running away from me…you've finally returned." The sound of his voice nearly raised bile in her throat as she realized just how at his mercy she was. He had won, and now he would either kill her, or give her a fate worse than death.

His steps against the wooden floor were audible, heavy only because he allowed them to be. Her limbs were as frozen as her gaze upon the ground. Only when his kneeling form came into view did she register his smooth fingers that tilted her chin up. His eyes were familiar, twinkling in satisfaction as they bore into hers, wide and wary.

"…Albeit worse for wear," he continued. "It seems I can't turn my back on you for a short while without you getting into trouble."

She bristled at this and pulled out of his grasp. His closeness made her even more wary, and she wished he would bypass his usual mind games.

"It shouldn't bother you," she remarked. "Saves you the time."

Pan raised a brow at her and stood. He tucked his hands behind him as he began to slowly circle behind her.

"I never laid a hand on you that wasn't…consensual."

She pursed her lips at his audacity.

"Just get on with it," she snapped. Her view of his expression in the corner of her eye was feigned innocence.

"Whatever do you mean?" he asked. His mocking tone only aggravated her more.

"Stuff me in a cage, throw away the key, whatever it is you plan to do with me," she said. "I no longer have any patience for your mockery and gloating."

He gave her a cunning grin as he once again circled behind her and knelt down. His hands gripped her shoulders, and she felt his breath on her neck.

"But we've only just been reunited," he whispered. "Why would I throw you away now?"

Her breath hitched, but she refused to look over at him.

"Time has changed you, Wendy," he observed with a playfulness that made her _very_ uneasy. "And not entirely for the better."

"What do you expect?" she asked quietly. "You ruined me."

"You ruined yourself," he countered. He stood and brought her with him. "I gave you fair warning."

He half dragged her across the room and out the doorway into another where a larger couch sat before a fireplace with a large rug in between. It didn't take much force on his part to push her onto the sofa. The muddled brown color was surprisingly soft as she landed with a grunt, but the shackles on her wrists burned with the movement.

"Since I'm feeling generous, and in no mood to fish you out of the lake when you begin to drown out of exhaustion, let's do things the easy way," said Peter. Before she could question him, he snapped his fingers. Wendy started at the feeling of mud and grime disappearing from her skin and hair. She looked down and fingered the new blue fabric that had replaced the tattered skirt of her old dress. It was soft and clean, and reminiscent of what she had worn the last time she'd visited Neverland. She was surprised he'd remembered such a detail, but the irony wasn't lost on her either.

"If you'll be patient, I have some errands to run. It's best you don't try to leave this room while I'm gone. Wouldn't want to get into more trouble," he said with a wink, and without waiting for her reply, he disappeared from her sight.

For a long moment Wendy could only sit in silence.

He'd won her in a bargain and had imprisoned her in a room lit by magic (there were no torches, so she could only assume without the ability to read the possible spells). But he had also cleaned her up and given her new clothes, leaving her alone to her own devices without explaining exactly what he had in store for her.

Part of her was too confused to move, while the other part itched to search the house. At least, she thought it was a house. It was obviously Peter's private home, so it must be the treehouse she'd seen the first time. If that was true, then she had no idea how to escape.

_But I can try._

Getting up proved difficult, however. Exhaustion was an understatement, but there was a bowl of fruit, bread and cheese when she turned her head to the small end table next to the couch. Her nearly palpable hunger drowned out the distant thought that it all could be poisoned.

Eating was also difficult without the full range of motion of her hands, but the bowl was empty before long, giving enough energy to her tired limbs to allow her to stand and wander to the next doorway she hadn't been through. Her hands met resistance as the brass knob simply wouldn't turn. While she couldn't check to make sure, she had a heavy feeling that it was magically sealed, as an attempt at opening the other door produced the same result. There was also an invisible barrier on the staircase that spiraled upward to the right of the fireplace.

This room also had no windows, but the fire was suddenly very warm and inviting as its glow attracted her gaze.

_There's no point in trying to leave if he's sealed the whole damned room, _she thought. _I'll just relax for a moment._

A moment turned into hours upon the sinfully soft furniture, and she slept blissfully even as the light in the room dimmed at the command of a hand. His eyes roamed over her face; at its familiar heart shape, lashes grown longer, lips fuller, her auburn hair longer and thicker. A lock of it fell across the bridge of her nose and his eyes followed the path of its wave. She was too thin and paler than he remembered.

All in all, she was the same and not the same.

Time had indeed changed her, and it had not been kind.

_I shouldn't have let her go_, he thought with a shake of his head.

Eventually she would tell him what had happened when his shadow had brought her back to the Enchanted Forest. Obviously it hadn't been good, and it had to do with the Evil Queen. In the meantime, he would see about setting her up with a more permanent residence. She wouldn't be leaving any time soon.

Wendy's return had come as a pleasant surprise, and ironic, as it was when he had finally taken a break from looking for her that she had been brought to him on a silver platter, if a bit battered and bruised. The sight of the shackles he could feel restraining her magic and sapping her strength made his blood boil. It surfaced darker memories…but for now it was better that her ability to cause destruction was kept at a minimum. It would make her more manageable.

Once she was brought to proper health he had no doubt she would try her hardest to escape, but that was what made things all the more fun.

* * *

Waking up proved to be a bad idea.

There wasn't a part of her body that didn't ache, but at least being forced to sleep on her back prevented her from getting a crick in the neck. She grimaced at the funk she could taste in her mouth, but if there was a bathroom in this house with a basin to wash in, Wendy didn't think she would be given access.

"Ah, she awakens from her slumber," drawled a voice. She nearly groaned. He smirked once he entered her line of vision.

"Not happy to see me?" he asked. She gave him a long look. He sighed and crossed his arms.

"The washroom is down that door," he said, and nodded to his right. "It's open to you."

She gave him a suspicious look.

"Yesterday it was locked," she said.

"Well, now it's unlocked," he replied with a grin. She sighed and looked down at the cuffs chained to one another.

"How am I supposed to maneuver with these things on?" she asked. He raised a brow.

"If you think I'm going to take them off, then you've been in a cell for too long," he said. But the longer he gazed at them, the more his eyes narrowed. Peter stepped up to her but paused with an expectant look. She hesitated, but eventually held up her hands to him. A blue glow emanated from his hands as he grasped the connecting chain and broke it with little effort. The metal disintegrated in his hands and fell to the floor as dust. The cuffs took on the appearance of thick wrist bands, and hummed in response to the change.

"Your hands are trembling," Peter observed. Wendy let her hands drop to her sides as she nodded.

"There was a shock after you broke the chain…it stings," she murmured, and rubbed her arm. It felt as if she had received an electric shock up both her arms. He surprised her by grabbing her shoulders gently. His hands trailed down, lingering on her skin until reaching above the metal. The pain from both the shock and her bruises dissipated even as they were scorched by his touch.

"Better?" he asked innocently, though the look in his eyes was anything but. Her mouth parted as their gazes locked, but no sound came. It wasn't until he abruptly let go of her and plopped down on the couch that the reverie was broken. Wendy took the opportunity to hasten to the washroom.

* * *

**Gah, I know this was short. If there are a few people actually reading this and keeping up with it that are aggravated, I can only apologize. I tried to write more, I really did, but it's not coming out yet, and I didn't want to wait longer than I had to before posting it. As usual, let me know what you thought! I don't have a snippet for you this time around, but the next chapter should be coming very soon. ;)**


	10. Tall Tales

**Here's the second part to this sort of **_**Neverland that Was **_**section of the story. Thanks to those who reviewed, you made my day and inspired me to write this faster!**

* * *

_~Isle of Thorns~_

Chapter Ten – Tall Tales (and fiery embers)

By the time Wendy came out feeling moderately refreshed, she was mildly surprised to find Peter still there lounging on the couch with a lazy smirk thrown her way. She said nothing, but glared and stayed close to the door. She had no wish to be any nearer to him.

"Come and join me. We have a lot to talk about," he said.

"No we don't," she refuted.

"Well, if you want to stay alone in this room for the rest of the day, that can be arranged."

"I survived in harsher conditions," was her quiet reply. He paused, his smirk tapering off into a serious expression. It made her slightly curious as to his thoughts, but then again, he always kept her on her toes when it came to his inner workings. Just when she thought she had him figured out, he managed to surprise her. Granted, she hadn't seen him in two years.

"It is not my intention to lock you up." Though his tone held the thinly veiled warning that if she gave him no other option, he would take it.

"Then what _is _your intention?" she asked. The confident look returned to his gaze then, and he sat up a little straighter and pat the cushion next to him. Wendy sighed in exasperation. If he didn't get his way, he wouldn't divulge anything.

She hesitantly sat beside him as close to the other side as she could. His expression was amused, but he allowed her space.

"Oh, don't get me wrong. You won't be leaving this island." She shifted her gaze to the fireplace. Fissures were being made in each of the logs as red-orange flame licked and crackled at the wood. She watched as flakes broke off and disintegrated, or dropped to the bottom of the pit into ash.

"I didn't make that mistake," she said. Wendy's voice was small and soft, but carried enough in the spacious room. Unbeknownst to her, the boy watched the dull expression in her eyes with…well, he didn't readily know what to make of it. She should be fearful. Or angry. Even miserable at her fate, to be moved from one prison to another. But her bearing was blank, void of anything resembling a response. It was…disquieting, he supposed.

_Unexpected_, was a better word.

"So," he began, and stood. Peter couldn't be still for long. It felt more natural to wander about the room, gave him a better vantage point and, psychologically, made it easier for him to attain the information he wanted. Or simply make his company uncomfortable enough to be wary.

"My shadow takes you back to your home in the Enchanted Forest through your open windows, and then…what?"

He circled around the couch, but Wendy only blinked and looked down at her lap.

"You ran away?"

At her silence, he probed further and came into her line of vision by rounding the corner.

"No? Perhaps your father found out about me and handed you over to the Evil Queen."

Her eyes flicked up to his, and he saw something spark in them. But what, he could not be certain.

"Warmer?" he asked with a cheeky grin. She looked away and didn't see his annoyed frown.

"Ah, I guess not. Hmm, this is an intriguing puzzle," he mused, as if he were only talking to himself. With his hands folded behind his back, he continued.

"He caught you upon your return, didn't he?" At this her mouth parted slightly, but her silence persisted. A slow grin formed across his face at the subtle shift in her demeanor. When he came to stand behind and to her left, he moved a strand of hair behind her ear.

"And he found out about our…nightly excursions."

Her head snapped in his direction and on instinct, she moved away from his touch. Wendy's lips were pursed as her eyes narrowed.

"He didn't," she said at last, to his satisfaction. "But guessed it was you're doing."

"Ah, so you lied," Pan said with a nod.

"He was more willing to believe that you had taken me against my will," she said. It wasn't worth it to explain the details; she _had_ lied by not telling Garen the whole truth, and that was all that mattered in the end. Perhaps if she had, things would have been different.

"I see…and after?" he asked. Though he saw the pain and unwillingness in her eyes, coupled with the stubbornness he found himself remembering. Her mouth clamped shut, and he sighed, relenting.

_Perhaps a change in tactic is in order._

"We've spent enough time chatting," he decided, catching her attention. "I think we could both do with some fresh air."

* * *

The camp was everything she remembered. Open and busy with boys running to and fro, sparing and eating and laughing. There were probably only twenty of them at most, but they seemed to be content in a place they thought they belonged. Wendy had thought so too, once.

Peter led her on, greeting Lost Boys who offered a "good morning, Pan!" and ignoring those who threw the girl strange looks as she trailed behind their leader. The only one she didn't see that she knew was Felix. Not that it would be pleasant if she saw him.

Peter stopped once they reached the middle of the clearing. He whistled in order to get the attention of all, and Wendy looked at him in confusion. He slipped her a cheeky grin before addressing the rest.

"It seems we have an addition to our island, boys."

"But…she's a girl!" one refuted. He was missing one of his front teeth (or perhaps they hadn't grown in before he came to be in Neverland), and had a blonde, scruffy mane of hair that reminded Wendy of her brother John.

_John! Michael! Where are they? They must be here_, she thought guiltily at not having remembered earlier. Her eyes frantically searched the crowd of boys, but she couldn't sight of either.

"A good observation," Peter remarked dryly. "She has been a guest of Neverland since before you even got here, Tootles."

The younger boy shrank back at the small rebuke, and Peter continued.

"Wendy will be staying with us for a while…I trust all of you will make her feel welcome."

No sooner had he finished speaking when twin voices carried throughout the clearing. Voices calling out her name in sheer joy. Voices that were achingly familiar, making tears well up in her eyes as she caught sight of her boys stumbling towards her. They practically tackled her into an embrace that was both warm and welcome. Wendy kissed their cheeks and apologized over and over through her tears how sorry she was for taking so long, how she would never leave without them again, and how happy she was to see them. She didn't notice how Peter ordered the rest of the Lost Boys to get on with their tasks, nor did she register him ruffle Michael's hair and take his leave.

_Good enough_, he thought as he viewed the sky growing closer and closer until he could touch the clouds. Flying always helped him regroup and clear his head. He had a feeling he would need the grasp on clarity when he returned.

* * *

Wendy spent the day with her brothers. They showed her the whole camp (though she had mostly already seen all it had to offer), where they slept, where they went on hunting patrols, and even showed her some of the games they played. One was a game she would rather never attempt again; her reflexes with magic were honed to an art, but somehow, kicking around a small bag of sand only using her feet wasn't a skill she possessed.

This lasted until the evening, where a meal of roast pork (or at least what tasted like pork) was in offer. Even with only salt as seasoning, it was a delicacy compared to what she'd had as of late. Wendy grew curious, while relieved, when Peter didn't show. She also thought it odd that Felix was also missing, though she then supposed it was logical to assume the two were out together.

Either way, with both gone she would have a moment's peace. Felix had never taken kindly to her in the past. In fact, he did his best to avoid her, especially in the beginning when she first met Peter. Wendy thought nothing of it at the time, but perhaps she should have.

He had often voiced his opinion that a girl (as the Lost Boys in general were of the notion that girls were more likely to gossip) who knew their meeting place and continued to return would be more liable to tell someone. Peter had brushed him off each time, and finally leveled him with a look that asserted his authority over the situation.

But while other boys were still hesitant to speak to her (though she could tell they were curious), she was able to talk with John and Michael. She was forced to avoid specifics when they questioned where she had been, what she'd been doing, and why she couldn't return right away after she left Neverland.

"I had some things to take care of, but I'm here now," she reassured.

"And you're not going to leave us again?" Michael questioned, his already doe-like eyes filling with hope.

A part of her hesitated, but eventually answered, "Of course not, Michael. I promised before, and I'll promise again now. As long as I am able, I will never leave you alone again."

That night, she followed John and Michael to their beds and tucked them in individually, as she used to when they were…well, when they all lived on the outskirts of a little village in a smaller cottage. When they were free.

She kissed their foreheads and wished them peaceful dreams, giggling when Michael tugged lightly on a strand of her hair.

"I'm happy you're here," he whispered with a grin. She smiled and stroked his cheek.

"I'm happy we're together again…now get some sleep," she said, and reluctantly withdrew. She closed the door of the hut gently behind her, though she gasped in surprise when she turned and found Peter merely inches away.

"What are you _doing?_" she hissed in aggravation, though she held a hand over her heart and sent him a swift glare. His brow rose in amusement.

"Escorting you back to your room," he said, and took her hand in his. Before she could blink, they were returned to the room she was _so_ very sick of seeing. She sighed and yanked her hand out of his, and sat down on the couch.

"Did you have fun today?" was his simple question. She wanted to give him a biting retort, but when she paused thoughtfully, what came to mind was her brothers' laughter, and her own smile at their carefree antics. For the first time in so long, she was able to relax and enjoy a single moment's peace.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said, and she sighed. He raised a brow. "I didn't have to let you see them."

She looked up at him and made the mistake of peering into his eyes, blue and uncharacteristically serious.

"No, you didn't," she agreed, no matter how much it pained her. She bit her lip before adding, "thank you."

It was short, but he could see the sincerity in her gaze, even if she still didn't trust him or care to thank him in any way. It made a smirk slide onto his face as he plopped down onto the sofa beside her.

"I think it's time you told me the rest of the story," he said. Wendy was confused, until she remembered what they had talked about that morning.

"Is that what this whole thing was about? Why you let me go into the camp? To relax me before continuing your interrogation?" she asked. He cocked his head to one side.

"The sooner you tell me, the sooner I'll leave you be for the night," he pointed out. Her solid glare met his unperturbed expression.

Eventually, however, she sighed in defeat.

"The _Queen_…she wanted a spell from him, even when he said it would be of no use for her purpose. At the time I hadn't known she intended to murder the only living heir to her throne…she had pretty words to disguise her intentions," said Wendy. "I tried to steal it for her, but my father interceded and exposed her for what she was…he couldn't stop her from using it against him."

"What was the spell?" he asked, peering into her haunted gaze. Although, he didn't need to see her face to hear the regret and veiled sorrow in her voice as she spoke.

"An entrapment in the form of an old book. It can only seal one who shares a bond of blood with whoever initiates the spell. Since she couldn't use it on Snow White, she used it on my father," she explained. Once she finished, she finally looked up at him. His expression showed his struggle to fill in the obvious gaps.

"How?" he asked, "if you say it required a bond by blood…"

His eyes widened in realization as the implications were made clearer in his mind.

"My cousin left me for dead in my own house," said Wendy, and she proceeded to explain her quest for vengeance, rallying allies and acquiring spells to aid her plans, her subsequent failure and deportation via the _Jolly Roger_ to Neverland. At the end of her tale, Peter nodded and stood, facing away from her to stare into the fireplace she hadn't realized had been relit.

"Why did you let me see my brothers?" she asked against her better judgment. It was probably what he was waiting for, a chance to manipulate her emotions like he _always _did—try and make her feel as if he actually cared, as if an act of kindness could erase everything he had done to hurt her.

"Neverland is now your home," he said. "It's time you get used to it. Your brothers will make it easier for you."

"By giving me a reason to stay," she supplied. Just as she thought, it had been part of his plan. It had worked.

"Perhaps," he allowed with a knowing grin. "But I doubt you would believe I did it just so you could see them."

"Because that isn't your nature," she said, giving the back of his head a sharp look. She couldn't see the way his grin turned into a smirk, but she could guess it.

"I'm giving you an opportunity of a lifetime," he said, and turned to her, stepping closer. She gave him an incredulous look.

"How so?"

"You can start fresh with them, actually be a family and all that garbage you were always moaning about," he said. His amusement only grew with her venomous glare.

"You can't actually think I'll ever be happy here."

"And why is that?" he asked innocently.

"Hmm, I wonder why?" she spat. "Why do you want me here in the first place? As another plaything you can toss about? Another lapdog like Felix at your beck and call?"

She stood and closed the distance between them, until they were mere inches away from touching. He narrowed his eyes at her, though they glittered with amusement, mischief, and something else she couldn't readily name.

"I have fought _too_ long and _too_ hard to break under the _likes of you_," she spat. Peter tilted his head to the right and leant closer to her, until she could feel their breaths mingling together. As much as he knew touching her was a bad idea, his hands gripped her waist, effectively rooting her to her spot. For so long he had denied the effect her nearness had on him, but if she asked him now, his lie would hardly be believable.

That didn't mean he couldn't use it to his advantage.

He smirked when he felt the tremor in her body and the heat in her eyes that didn't just stem from anger.

"Why would I want to break you?" His voice was low and smooth in her ear, and Wendy restrained a shiver as she grasped his forearms. "When I have missed your _fire_?"

Just when Wendy thought her self-control would be at its breaking point, her hands met open air. The rush of cold and loss of contact made her stumble a bit and heave a few breaths to steady herself. The couch broke her stumbling fall. And after a moment to relax her nerves, her fist met the armrest in sheer aggravation.

* * *

**Well, make of that what you will. ;) There will be more to come! **


	11. Tall Tales II

**Here's an update for the New Year! Sorry it's taken so long, but I hope everyone had an amazing week filled with food and fun. Thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter, especially sonotalady and TheLingeringWolf.**

* * *

_~Isle of Thorns~_

"_Sometimes when I think of your name__  
__When it's only a game and I need you__  
__Listening to the words that you say__  
__It's getting harder to stay when I see you."_

—_The Flying Pickets, "Only You"__  
_

Chapter Eleven – Tall Tales (and turning tables)

When he saw that Wendy would be occupied by her brothers for the day, Peter left her in the camp to fend for herself. He had things to do, better things than babysit her. The boys wouldn't harm her, and she knew better than to leave the camp.

_If her brothers can't manage to keep her out of trouble, she won't get into any mischief that I won't be able to feel_. The island was a part of him just as he was a part of it; its magic flowed in his veins.

Felix walked beside him with his club over his shoulder. Peter noticed each and every time his friend looked over at him, as if trying to solve a puzzle. It was annoying.

"You have something to say?" Peter asked. Felix wasn't surprised at being caught, but it took him a moment to respond as they cut through trees and foliage.

"Why the girl, Pan?" he asked simply. Peter's eyes narrowed.

"Are you questioning my decisions?"

"No, but isn't the Heart of the Truest Believer enough?" asked Felix.

"She has nothing to do with that," said Peter. "She's here because we made a deal."

"I remember, but…" Peter stopped then, and looked at Felix directly in his eyes.

"But _what?_"

Felix shut his mouth. To ask such a question…there was no telling what Pan would do.

"Let me make myself clear," Peter began. "She is nothing to me. I don't expect she will live past the month, but we shall be entertained in the meantime."

For the first time, Felix doubted his leader's motives.

Peter ignored his second in command in favor of cutting into the plant before them with a knife. He held a bottle underneath as black fluid oozed from it.

* * *

Wendy spent her days avoiding Peter to the best of her ability. She wouldn't give her attention to him when he entered the camp as all of the Lost Boys did, fawning over him like he was some kind of god (even her own brothers, which was enough to make her feel sick). Perhaps he was, in his own mind. Wendy knew better.

She was frustrated and angry, and couldn't stand the sight of him. No other being in the world, not even her cousin, could elicit the myriad of conflicting (and violent) emotions that made her wish she could tear off the bonds on her wrists and use her magic against him. The worst part was knowing that this was part of his game, to toy with her emotions and make her want to rip her own hair out.

Whenever he glanced over at her, it was always with amusement. There was a knowingness in his gaze that told her he knew exactly what she was doing, and he thought it comical. This frustrated her most of all, though she let it simmer inside like the kettle she was hanging over the fire.

If she was to be here for a millennium, she would have tea.

It was chilly out here for the first time since she arrived, and the blue cotton dress she was wearing, while comfortable, was not particularly warm. Her brothers were gone hunting with Peter and Felix, so she had plenty of time on her hands that she wasn't sure what to do with.

When a Lost Boy wandered over to her, a curious look upon his face, Wendy looked over. He couldn't be more than nine years old, with a ruddy complexion and the curliest of red hair she'd ever seen. His eyes were wide and bright as he regarded her, and her expression was amused by his wariness of her.

"Would you like some tea?" she asked. He blinked and looked between her and the kettle.

"Where did you get that?" he asked. The boy's voice was high and full of wonder, and it made her want to giggle.

"If you want to know the truth, I stole the kettle from Pan's kitchen," she said with a mischievous raise of a brow. "I found the tea in his cupboards."

The child's eyes grew even wider, if that were possible, and his awe turned into begrudging admiration for pulling off such a stunt.

"You'll make him mad for sure," he said. She grinned.

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him." He shook his head.

"He knows everything that happens on the island," he said sagely. Wendy shrugged and poured herself a cup of the steaming liquid.

"More for me then," she said, and took a careful sip. She shivered pleasantly as its warmth traveled down her throat. Though she wished she had some honey to put in it, she'd found a little sugar.

Before long, the red-haired boy's prolonged stare turned into begrudging outstretched hands. She smiled to herself and poured him a cup as well. His eyes closed and a smile lit his face upon taking the first sip. He looked up at her gratefully.

"It'll be our little secret," she said with a wink. The boy nodded and sat beside her on the long she had perched herself on, swinging his feet that brushed the dirt to and fro.

"What's your name?" asked Wendy.

"Curly," he said, not even looking up at her as he took another sip. One look at the mop of hair on his head, and she understood. "You're Wendy."

She nodded, remembering how Peter had announced her presence nearly three days before.

"Where did you come from?" he asked, taking her by surprise. She considered her words carefully.

"Far away from here," she said eventually. "It was a dark place, full of magic and all kinds of people. Some were kind…many were not."

Curly surprised her again by turning on the log to face her. "Magic? What kind of magic?" he asked.

"The kind that took ages to learn, but could actually be very beautiful," she began, and told him of living in her father's cottage, how it was commonplace to enter his study and see books glowing and floating in mid-air. She told him of the spells he created with herbs and roots and dust (something Curly could identify with when he thought of Pixie Dust), of beautiful fireworks and globes that shone in changing colors, of enchanted bows that could never miss, and brooms and mops that cleaned entire houses by themselves. Before Wendy knew how much time had passed, other Lost Boys who passed by began to listen to her recounts. One by one they sat down around her; on the logs, on the floor, wherever close enough to hear her gentle voice.

"Do you know any stories?" Curly asked. With the vocal agreements of the other boys, she tapped her chin in thought.

"I remember one about a farm boy who became a prince…in the most unlikely of ways," she said. "Would you want to hear it?"

With their many affirmations, Wendy obliged them. But when that story reached its end, they wanted another. She told them of a boy who sold his most precious friend, a cow, for magic beans that formed a giant beanstalk. And when the story met its end with the boy becoming very rich and selling the golden eggs he found, it was no surprise to her when they asked for another.

"Well, what kind of story would you like to hear this time?" she asked, but her concentration broke when the hunting party returned from their expedition with a large boar, several fish, and some birds.

"We will feast tonight boys!" Peter announced as they came out of the thicket and into the clearing. While the other Lost Boys whooped and laughed as they usually did, he noticed the small crowd before Wendy with a suspicious gaze. "What seems to be going on here?"

John and Michael came to their sister's side with large smiles, though she could see they were tired. Wendy hugged each of them and looked up, meeting Pan's gaze obstinately, even as she saw the wariness in Felix's normally indifferent expression as well.

"She's really good at telling stories!" said Tootles, who sat close to Wendy. She remained silent, but still met their leader's gaze. He was quiet for a long moment.

"Felix, take some of the others and get this going on the spit," he said. His second in command nodded and recruited some of the others to help him. Peter's eyes roamed over the small group sitting around Wendy, saying nothing, until he waved a hand, and another log appeared directly behind him. He sat, and motioned for her to continue.

"I apologize for my…interruption," he said, and she narrowed her eyes at him.

"I wanna hear one with sword fighting!" said a Lost Boy who tugged on the skirt of her dress; Nibs, if she remembered correctly.

"Yeah, and, and a fire-breathing monster!" added Tootles, to the agreement of the others. Peter remained silent and allowed Wendy to control the situation. She smiled down at them and pretended to think.

"Well, there is one story I know of. It's absolutely true," she said. "I know, because it happened in the world I once lived in…where a girl not that much older than me heard of a creature that was attacking a nearby village. Her name was Belle, and she was very brave…"

Wendy told so many stories over the next several days that by the time night would fall, her throat felt raw and sore. She drew from the childhood stories she once told her brothers, down to ones she knew of others, such as a beauty and her beast ("the same girl who fought the Yaoguai," she told them), even a distant one that a passing vagabond had once told her of a young woman who terrorized her own village at night, not knowing that she was, in fact, a werewolf. All the time Pan sat, and listened. He never interrupted, only left periodically to carry out whatever tasks he and other Lost Boys needed to fulfill that day. But the boys always returned to hear more, and so did Pan.

She didn't know why, but she convinced herself that she could care less what her captor did with his time. Nonetheless, she saved one story for last, when she had quite run out after nearly three weeks of entertaining Lost Boys. While at first they had been aloof towards her, cautious and distrustful, eventually they had come to enjoy her company, if only for stories that kept their imaginations running wild.

Wendy found herself enjoying their company as well, though more often than not she was mending their clothes and wiping their faces. The younger ones came with scuffed knees or bruised limbs after nasty falls and scrapes. She would make them tea or hot chocolate (when she could steal it from Peter's pantry) and clean the dirt from their wounds and their faces.

In these weeks, she also noticed a change in how Peter treated her. He gave her space, though she still lived in his tree house. He was civil, and rarely talked to her. It was what she wanted, though she couldn't help but be curious as to what he was up to if he wasn't badgering her, or trying to set her on edge.

It was on a cool night, after the evening meal was long gone, that Wendy decided to test him.

"What will you tell us tonight?" asked Curly. She smiled and ruffled his hair, even when he protested and pushed her hands away.

"One that I'm sure you will enjoy…" She paused, searching for the right words. "Well, you'll see."

Wendy's eyes roamed over all of their faces, all different, but no less family to one another. Her heart ached when she thought of the homes they had been torn from, this place that they were held captive in, yet they didn't view it as a prison. This was their life, on Neverland, and they loved it. Even John and Michael…

_If they can learn to love this place…perhaps I can learn to love it once more_, she thought. Though she couldn't ignore the regret that pierced her heart, or the pain when she saw Peter's gaze trained on her.

"Once…there was a little girl, no older than all of you. She lived on the outskirts of a small village in a smaller cottage, and secretly dreamed of adventure," she began. Her voice was soft, but carried on the light wind. "One night, she ventured into the woods, and got her wish…she met a boy who was unlike anything she had ever seen, mysterious and wild, magical and undoubtedly dangerous. But her penchant for acting out of curiosity got the best of her, and she accepted his hand of friendship…"

She told them of the many wonders the boy showed her in the world he was from, so different and more alive than hers. He could even fly, and let her fly as well. They both made up games to play in his world, though in her world they could never be seen with one another. He was blamed for stealing children from their homes, when really, he was saving them from lives of neglect and abandonment.

"They became fast friends, and told each other their many secrets. But when the Evil Queen heard of their friendship, she sought to destroy it. Why, you ask? Well, the boy was a criminal in that world, and the Queen wanted him imprisoned forever," said Wendy. Some Lost Boys swallowed hard while their eyes widened.

"She met the girl along the road in the guise of an old woman, and asked if she would escort an elderly lady to her house, since her walking stick was nowhere to be found. The girl agreed, and helped the woman until coming to a large castle.

"_What are we doing here?" _asked the girl.

"_Little girls really are the most gullible," _said the old woman, who as it turned out, wasn't old at all. Before the girl could blink, she was staring into the face of a much younger, beautiful woman, clothed in finery and a darkness that clung to her like a second skin. The Evil Queen imprisoned the girl there in the castle for many days, allowing her neither food nor drink. It was the Queen's plan to lure the boy out of hiding, so that they could catch him if he ventured to close to her domain.

"Just when she had given up all hope of deliverance, there came a knock at her cell door. She looked up and saw her friend there, smiling at her. He was able to steal the keys from the guards while they slept and relieved her of her chains.

"_I was lost without you," _she told him.

"_Just say the word, and I will take you far away from here," _he said. _"We will be together forever, and you will never be alone again."_

"She smiled and took his hand, and promised, _"Forever." _Together they escaped the castle without anyone knowing they had gone. He brought her to a wonderful world not unlike this one, where children could be free to make their own adventures."

When Wendy had finished, she smiled and excused herself, and took her leave. Her feet carried her inside the tree house, where she sat heavily upon the couch. How long she stared blankly at the ever-going fireplace, she didn't know, didn't care to know. Because she soon felt the sting of tears in her eyes, felt them roll down her cheeks and down her neck. Soon she could hear the sound of her sobs as she hugged her legs close to her body.

But Wendy didn't need to hear Peter to know he was standing behind her, watching her.

"The sick part is how much I wish it would have happened that way," she managed through her sobs, and she couldn't see how her words stilled him. Pierced him with a force and held him in place.

"It's so hard to be here…so hard…I've spent all this time pretending I don't _care!_" she said, her voice rising with the force of her tears. "When I know you don't, and never will. I can't believe I still want you to, and it's killing me."

She gripped her hair and rested her head against her knees, anything to block out his presence, though they both knew it wasn't working. Peter came to sit beside her, or more precisely, in front of her on the sofa. Her body still shook, but his voice grabbed her attention.

"I turned you away…because I didn't want you to become one of them—one of the Lost Boys," he said. Slowly, she looked up at him, though he wasn't looking at her. He watched the fire with disinterest.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because you wouldn't have been lost if it weren't for me."

She wouldn't believe him, couldn't believe his words.

"That would imply that you gave a damn about my feelings," she pointed out. He looked over at her then, and she saw something in his eyes that stopped her. She couldn't know for sure that it was genuine.

Peter reached out and took her wrists gently in his hands, which glowed a brighter blue than she had ever seen them. There was a painful pull from her bonds, as if they were clinging to her skin, unwilling to let go of the power they absorbed. But eventually, the shackles fell away from her. Round scars where the edges had seared flesh were still visible, but for the first time, Wendy felt whole again, as if a part of her had been returned to its rightful place. She didn't know she was crying again until she felt warm fingers wiping under her eyes and smooth palms cradling her cheeks.

Wendy's eyes darted upward to meet Peter's piercing blue. It was then that she saw the gravity in his gaze for what it was. Sincerity.

His lips descended on hers, warm and needy, and it was just as she remembered.

Like flying.


	12. Forget

**I meant to write this faster, but I got a bit side tracked. *Cowers* Don't hurt me!**

* * *

_~Isle of Thorns~_

Chapter Twelve – Forget (me nots)

Peter's kiss was searing. Demanding as his fingers pressed into her waist and lower back. It was exhilaration as it was frightening, and she didn't want it to stop. But doubt niggled still in the back of her mind, and when his hands began to wander to the laces of her dress, clarity cut her like a knife.

Wendy parted from him abruptly, falling against the side of the sofa a bit painfully when his arms stopped supporting her. His expression quickly changed to one of confusion and hurt, though he masked the latter. She shook her head as tears began to trail her cheeks.

"I…I can't," she choked. "I _can't_."

"Why not?" His tone was accusing, making her tears fall faster.

"I-I'm sorry…I'm sorry, but I can't forget. I'm not who I was before," she tried to explain. Her eyes bore into his in earnest. "I don't know if this is really you, or if it's part of another game I know nothing of."

Peter was about to question her further when read the expression in her eyes for what it was, realization lighting his own. He had been about to grasp her hands in his, but he knew he didn't have the answer she wanted, because for the _first time_ he didn't have an answer. He didn't.

"You're scared of me," he stated. Her shocked gaze met his, and he pushed away from her and stood.

Part of Wendy wanted to scream and shout for him to leave her alone, because yes, she was so very scared of Peter Pan. It was so easy for him to manipulate her, so easy for him to prove that she was weak. But another wanted so desperately for him to come back and…to come back and hold her closely, to never let go. She wanted to believe she could hate him, and for a while she thought she did. It was so painfully obvious that it wasn't the case.

No matter what it was she felt, she knew she couldn't trust him. This somehow pained her the most, and though she knew he would never admit it, it seemed to pain him to. This thought sent her head spinning even more.

_But then again, he could be lying even now._

He turned his back and disappeared before her eyes.

She pressed her head against her knees and cried.

* * *

He was livid.

Chairs and books and blankets went flying at his command as his jerking movements gave way to more frustration.

_I shouldn't care._

The thought set fire to his veins almost as must as her lips had. Peter inwardly cringed and let out an even angrier cry as he kicked a wooden crate. It slid across the floor and crashed against a column of shelves, making several books fall from their perch. He clenched his fists so hard that they turned white and the strain pained him.

_It can't be possible._

* * *

The moment the door unsealed in the morning, she hastened up the staircase and ventured outside. It was only a little past dawn and few Lost Boys were up and about. That gave her enough cover to slip into the forest unseen.

She didn't have any idea of where she was going at first, just that she needed to get out of the confines of the camp. Out from under the weight of his gaze. If she stayed any longer felt knew she would suffocate under it.

So she tore through the woods, a bit recklessly at first, just to make sure she put enough distance between herself and the camp. After a while she began to remember her surroundings, and how dangerous the island could be. She slowed and stepped more carefully around suspicious plants (especially thorns) and listened to the sounds; birds, the wind through the leaves in the trees, and the distant rush of water. It was all so wild, but so very familiar. Wendy closed her eyes and breathed in the air deeply. Here she could not lie.

She loved it still.

* * *

Peter woke, but he kept his eyes closed even as he felt something off within the island. He could hazard a guess as to what it was.

_Let her. She knows better than to get herself into anything she can't get out of._

She'd practically lived here for years, after all.

…But it didn't change the fact that she was weakened.

_Vulnerable._

And emotional.

_Hurt._

It was her own fault if she got into trouble. He pushed the thought away and got up out of bed. Today would be a busy day, and he needed all of the Boys' help for what needed to be done.

* * *

It was easier to walk and move now that she had been eating and resting well for a little over three weeks. Her strength had just about returned to her, and now with her magic beginning to flow freely once more, Wendy felt more alive than ever. Her mood was lightening as she trekked through the forest, taking in the different flowers and plants and trees she had never before seen, and the ones she knew from memory. Some poisonous, some for healing minor things, like a sore throat or upset stomach. Some she just liked to appreciate their beauty.

She passed the Echo Cave with a sparing glance, but she knew better than to enter in. The island itself was already a prison, it didn't need the things within herself she kept securely tucked away. Giving the island her secrets would be giving Pan her secrets.

_To do that would be to give him everything. He has enough of me to manipulate._

Wendy wouldn't have bypassed a dip in the lagoon, but there were sure to be mermaids who wouldn't hesitate to lure her in and drown her. At least, that is what Peter told her the first time she explored the _real_ Neverland. Instead, she found herself wandering closer to Dead Man's Peak, if she remembered correctly. She could see the precipice up ahead through a part in the trees. Mist obscured it, but she figured she could climb up the side and rest there for a while.

_Just be mindful of the thorn bush. _She involuntarily shuddered. The very thought of the black poison made her toes curl. As was most things in Neverland, any contact with it was best avoided.

Lost in her thoughts, Wendy didn't notice a raised root protruding from the ground. Naturally, it caught her foot and sent her careening forward into palm fronds and dirt with a yelp. She huffed in an attempt to blow away the dirt now coating the right side of her face. When she looked up, however, she was met by a long branch poised between her eyes.

"Who are you?" said a voice. Its accent was both odd and lilting, and distinctly feminine. Wendy's eyes travelled upward and found a young woman, blonde and dressed in black. Her blue eyes were hard and suspicious, while her body language gave the impression she was not one to be taken lightly.

"Well?" she pressed, shifting the branch in her hands. Wendy got up slowly and raised her hands in a placating manner.

"I didn't know there were any other girls allowed on the island," said Wendy.

"Because there aren't any others…usually," said the woman. "But that doesn't answer my question."

"Names are a hefty thing," Wendy pointed out. Peter must know she was here, there was no way he couldn't with how attuned he was to the island. But the fact that he didn't tell Wendy she was here made her suspicious. It was obvious neither trusted one another with their identity, but that did not mean Wendy couldn't figure out who she was or leave of her own accord. She wasn't powerless, and this woman didn't appear to be able to fight her with much skill.

"That is true. Did the Shadow make a mistake then? It never brings girls onto the island…and you seem a bit too old," she said.

"The Shadow didn't bring me here," Wendy replied. "Nor do I think it brought you."

The woman chuckled mirthlessly, lowering her branch a bit.

"You would be right about that."

"But you seem to have been here a while," Wendy observed. "Is that where you live?"

She pointed to a nearby cave covered in lichen and overgrown vines that fell over the entrance like a curtain. The woman raised a brow as a grin played upon her full lips.

"Perceptive, aren't you?" she asked, and sighed. "Yes, I've been here for quite a while, which is why I know you're new. Pan would never let a girl onto the island, for reasons I can't even begin to fathom."

"So you do know him." The stranger scoffed.

"Unfortunately, but he allows me to stay here relatively protected. In turn, I stay out of his way."

"Interesting," Wendy muttered. "I wish that was our arrangement. He hardly allows me to breathe without him near."

The blonde again raised a brow and lowered her branch entirely. She beckoned Wendy over and started towards the cave.

"Come on, you look like you could use some tea," she said. "I don't know who you are, but I know a prisoner when I see one."

"Thanks," Wendy replied with a small smile, and followed her into the cave. There were things you could expect: a pit of logs for a fire, pots, pans, supplies in boxes and crates, with a wooden bed amongst other pieces of furniture.

"So, either you're a runaway, or a castaway," the woman mused as she struck two rocks over the collection of logs. Two sticks were strategically placed on either side of it, tied with one laid horizontally, which held up the kettle. "The question is, which one are you? There are few possibilities for why you're here. We've ruled out the Shadow. So either you were taken by Peter Pan himself from wherever you're from, you fell through a portal, or you were smuggled onto Hook's ship."

"Wow, I'm impressed," Wendy confessed. "I'll admit, none of those options seem to fit you. But I'll tell you that you've guessed correctly."

The look in the other woman's eyes told Wendy that she knew she hadn't answered the question entirely, but through the vein of mild amusement there was a sadness and wistfulness about her.

"You would be right then. But I'm just as much a prisoner here as you are."

The silence between them was poignant, but when the kettle began to whistle, the blonde grabbed it and poured steaming water into a tin cup that already had tea leaves inside.

"Sugar?" she asked. Wendy nodded and thanked her, took the cup and blew on it softly in attempt to cool it first.

"I was privileged to be a passenger aboard the _Jolly Roger_. Hook was doing business in the Enchanted Forest, where the Queen must have sought him out. I was her prisoner, and she wanted me to endure torture she knew she could never inflict on me," Wendy began. "I'm afraid I would bore you with the tedious story, but Pan and I have something of a history."

The surprise in the woman's eyes was not lost on Wendy, and she continued.

"Suffice to say, he was…well, he both surprised and unsurprised to see me, and took me in. He told me he had no wish to keep me locked up, but as long as I'm on this island, that is all I will ever be."

"Hmm, it seems you have quite the dilemma then."

Wendy's smile had no warmth in it as she gazed down at her cup of tea.

"I came out here to forget about it."

"It's not impossible," said the blonde, and it was Wendy's turn to raise a brow.

"Do tell."

"Well, I suppose I've always been one to look at the bright side of things. Even when I'm really just as bitter inside," she said. "For a moment, I believe things here are better than how they were before, that I can get used to it."

"And have you?" Wendy asked. The woman's smile was melancholy.

"I believe so. It's lonely, but not terrible. At least you have your brothers...it could be easier for you." Wendy shook her head.

"I don't think I could honestly think like that…all I want to do is leave this place, _forever_," she said softly. She stared ahead to the wall, dark and plain, and she forgot about the strange woman. For an instant, she remembered a warm hearth, sitting beside John and Michael, listening to their mother's velvet voice as she retold the same stories, night after night until Wendy could say them in her sleep. The stories she recounted to the Lost Boys, and to Peter.

"I would take my family far, far away from him, where he can never hurt us again."

"Well, it seems you have magic of your own to help you."

And then the reverie was broken with a shock, making Wendy's attention shift back to the woman's knowing smile.

"Fairies tend to know these things," she said, and at Wendy's disbelieving look, she added, "Well, a former fairy to be exact. My name is Tinker Bell."

She extended a hand, and Wendy shook it lightly.

"Wendy," she replied.

* * *

"Pan, why exactly are we doing this?" Felix asked, helping him pull up several planks of wood along the half-made wall. Not that he was complaining. Having something like this to do was refreshing; he hadn't worked with his hands like this since he was a boy, helping his father whittle wooden toys for the neighbor children. Before he met Peter Pan.

"Don't start, it needs to be done. Your incessant complaining is beginning to grate on my nerves." Pan's icy tone bore no argument, effectively silencing his second in command. It was amazing how much could be done in a day with the aid of magic, but a project of this size would take the rest of the night.

_Where the hell has she gone? It's almost nightfall._

He wasn't worried, but her brothers were already pining after her. When they'd asked him where she went, he was forced to lie, saying she was just getting herself reacquainted with the island after so much time away from it. For the most part, he avoided lying to his Lost Boys, but when it was in their best interest to receive an altered version, it wasn't above him to spin things differently.

It didn't matter. She would turn up eventually, and after they finished what lied half-made before them, his troubles would be over. Temporarily, at least.

* * *

**And that's twelve. The next chapter should be out in a few days (maybe less). Let me know what you thought in the little box below!**


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